Savior
by paperazzi
Summary: X-23 is rescued from the Facility, but it costs her more than she could have known. Now she's racing against the clock to rescue Alpha Weapon from their clutches before he's ready to destroy her burgeoning family. HeliX, M for adult themes
1. First Entry

_A/N: Hiya, fanfiction...uhh...fans(?) anyways, I've been in the HUGEST writing slump for a while now, so no updates on my other stories are forthcoming yet, but this one's been absolutely FORCING its way out of my brain little by little so hopefully I can get this out and then an update to The Ties that Bind and S:S (which i'm considering renaming, btw Suggestions are welcome :). _

_This story is inspired by a song (don't worry, not a songfic) that I'm sure some of you have heard, and that is Savior (Duh) by Rise Against. Enough prattle. Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Savior:<strong>

**First Entry**

Porcelain skin cracked and split as a tanned fist connected with its outermost layer. Liquid life flowed through the crevice, staining crimson all it touched in its rush to find tranquility. Droplets hung in the air before her emerald eyes as time slowed. A girl with no name, X-23 saw her handler's arm as the woman stepped through the punch, she saw her jailer's smug smile behind, twisted as his blackened heart. The wound on her temple closed just before her body slammed into the cold metal floor, stemming the flow as her eyes found the room's third occupant.

Bright blue eyes stared back at her wide, frightened – _terrified – _eyes. They bored into her soul, baring emotion she'd never experienced and something old and rusted and forgotten deep within her stirred. It reared its head, weak and beaten, broken but _alive_. His chin was set hard, defiant, he wouldn't lose, his posture seemed to say, no matter how scared or sad or lonely, he'd always come out on top.

X-23's eye fluttered open in a desperate bid for consciousness, raking across him from top to bottom and something in his mop of dark hair caught her eye; A tinge of green in the sea of black. The boy blushed profusely, despite his obvious fright, embarrassedly reaching up to his hair and trying in vain to extricate the blow pop that had gotten tangled in his mane during the short helicopter ride from his California home. No one in the room but him noticed the slight curve of her lips.

* * *

><p>Julian was his name. Though she hadn't seen him in nearly a week, the boy hadn't left her mind for a moment. Julian, she learned, was being held in a separate cell on the other side of the facility. She kept all six of her indestructible claws in the corner of the titanium walls in the ready room. Zander Rice and Martin Sutter stood in the door beneath her, oblivious to her presence as she listened to their hushed German.<p>

"Wie ist der Junge?" _How is the boy?_

"Immer noch Angst. Wir halten ihn auf diese Weise." _Still afraid. We will keep him this way._

"Gute. Er ist alt, und wir zahlten einen hohen Preis für ihn. Pause ihn schnell." _Good. We paid a high price for him. Break him quickly._

Fear twisted X-23's gut like a knife. The sickening sensation passed over her like a thundercloud, dampening the brief excitement she'd felt at the boy's presence. Rice and Sutter would do horrible things to this boy. Horrible things she'd experienced firsthand.

Sutter lowered his voice another few decibels but Laura, with her enhanced hearing, had no trouble discerning his words.

"Erwarten kinney Verrat bald." _Expect Kinney's betrayal soon._

Ice flooded X-23's veins at this. Sarah Kinney was her _creator, _her _mother._ She wouldn't betray her. She couldn't. Sutter smiled slowly, sitting stock-still as he weighed his subordinate's words.

"Es spielt keine Rolle. Wir sind bereit für Phase zwei." _No matter. We are ready to proceed with phase two._

* * *

><p>"I don't need to remind you of the importance of this, Logan. They've used this weapon to kill over fifty people so far. One of them the <em>presidential candidate<em>."

James 'Logan' Howlett pulled down the black and grey, Kevlar facemask he wore on Scott Summers' special missions.

"Yeah, I get it Scott. Kill these fuckers, kill their weapon. Me an' Warpath'll handle it. Right James?"

He turned to the copilots seat of the X-wing where his partner-in-crime sat quietly. The native American mutant smiled softly, reminding Logan of the innumerable hardships he'd endured. Logan growled softly. He'd probably be killing the weapon himself.

"Don't go soft on me, Jimmy. We still don't even know who this weapon _is._"

As of yet there wasn't even video, from a cell phone, camcorder or anything. The only thing that had been left behind were shredded bodies, claw marks cut precisely through vital points as if _he'd _done it.

But anyone who knew Logan knew he wasn't picky when it came to killing. When Logan raged, everything around him died, and died ugly. These incisions were precise, targeted and deliberate; an assassin's hallmark.

"Good," Cyclop's voice wafted from the control panel. "Remember the intelligence is suspect. This Kinney person may have defected, and Emma can't find anything in her head to say she's lying, but that doesn't mean she hasn't been memory wiped."

"Understood," Logan replied. "Don't worry, we've got luck on our side today." He glanced back at the vehicle's third occupant, a mutant markswoman known as 'Domino' who manipulated probability in her favor. His gaze lingered on her open shirt and the pale valley visible within; he craned his neck just a little…

"Hey, keep your eyes on the road you overgrown hamster," Domino snapped, looking up from loading her twin pistols.

"We're in a jet," Logan shot back gruffly. "And it's on autopilot." Letting the statement hang in the air, as if that concluded the argument, he turned around slowly, looking back down at the communication console. "Alright Cyke. We're pretty much there so its huntin' time."

The mutant commander nodded. "Good luck X-force. Cyclops out."

Domino sneered. "'Good luck,' he says. I _am_ good lu-"

_**!**_

Everyone froze as warning lights began to flash all over the jet. Logan gulped as he realized that the sound of the engine no longer reached their ears.

"Shit," Domino finished.

"You were saying?" Logan asked irritably, desperately trying to correct a mistake he had no control over.

"…" Warpath fixed Logan with a glare.

"Shutup Jimmy. Alright, abandon ship," Logan muttered bitterly.

Three seconds later, he was the only one on the jet.

"Y'know," he muttered, "I always somehow thought that I'd be begged not to go down with the ship. Computer, what the hell happened, anyway?" He popped his claws with a loud _**SNIKT!**_

"Birdstrike detected in main intake nacelle."

"Birdstrike?" Logan raged. "Fucking _birdstike_ at ten thousand feet?" `

"Yes," continued the computer, oblivious to his ire. "The main intake passed too close to a peregrine falcon in full stoop. The probability of this occurrence is one hundred and fourteen quadrillion, seventy nine trillion-"

"SHUTUP!" Logan replied, jamming his claws into the main console. He grabbed a chute as the autopilot disengaged and they began an uncontrolled freefall, leaping out of the wildly spinning plane before even strapping the parachute to his waist.

He watched the plane spiral away- a regrettably large inferno trailing from its million dollar engine- and slamming into the desert still near mach speed.

"I can't believe this shit."

* * *

><p>"I can't <em>believe<em> this shit!" a dark-skinned woman hollered from beneath the wreckage of a conspicuous black jet. Only her head was visible as Facility operatives worked to extricate her.

Logan peered through the hole made in the roof of the underground compound by the falling X-wing and the wreckage of one of its wings laying atop a miraculously still-breathing woman.

"You're telling me, lady," he growled, leaping down to impale her through the throat.

To his immense surprise, his claws scraped right off the side of her neck and he stared at them stupidly for precisely one second.

"GET HIM!" she roared, and pandemonium ensued. OF course, they didn't get him. They never got him.

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><p>Dust billowed around a barren field in the lonely Mojave Desert as a black helicopter lifted quickly into the first rays of dawn. Its running lights were dark and its expensive, noise dampening turbine kept it quiet, occupants hoping to keep out of sight as it sped away from the morning. Within seconds it had cleared the tall metal fence and Zander Rice peered through his brown bangs at the tiny entrance, illuminated by the few spotlights left down there.<p>

A titanium blast door splintered apart as impossibly sharp, indestructible metal claws sliced through it. A bloodcurdling howl barely preceded the burly wolf of a man with a billion dollar clone of himself trailing at his heels: A twelve year old girl, bloodied feet slapping against the pavement with a six inch long claw extending from between her toes on each foot.

Rice felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of the pair, the former howling in feral rage with the blood of countless men and women staining his black and grey outfit. He couldn't imagine being on the ground with them.

"We will need a new subject," Rice said to his partner, Martin Sutter. The older man nodded. "But Kinney's betrayal has hurt us. Even our best sniffers couldn't detect the EMP charge in the mainframe. We no longer have X-23's data."

"No matter," Rice replied almost hurriedly. Sutter knew he was all too eager to move from the woman's shadow. "She is a lost cause anyway. It was Kinney's pet project. We still have Weapon X's data and that's all we need."

Rice smirked, happy to be in an advantageous position over his superior. "He possesses an X-gene consistent with Alpha-level psionics or higher. Kinney confirmed it before her…departure."

The other scientist licked his lips in anticipation. Alpha level telekinesis was rare even among the most powerful mutants. Strong manipulation of all matter, devoid of flaws like unintentional manipulation or telltale signs. The potential was limitless. "The boy."

"Twelve, just like the girl. We would have to begin conditioning immediately and we've proven success in Wade Wilson among others that healing factors can be artificially endowed. Mental acuity is average but training can put him where we need."

Sutter smiled, straightening his white lab coat. "Do it."

In the seat beside him, Julian Keller stared, bleary-eyed and defiant, at the men talking about him as if he were cattle.

"Ahh, he's awake," Rice murmured. "So insolent. We'll have to stamp that out of you, too."

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><p><em>R&amp;R! <em>

_Paperazzi 0uT!_

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	2. Second Entry

_AN: SURPRISE! dubble update! R&R!_

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><p><strong>Savior<strong>

**Second Entry**

Laura bounded out of her bed as soon as her eyes snapped open.

"Moooooom!" she shouted, unable to contain herself as she threw open her door and rushed down the hallway. "Guess what day it is!"

Sarah Kinney blinked away sleep as she woke to the exuberant teenager and clears her throat. "Your birthday," she yawns wearily, and smiles despite her tiredness. Laura had been reminding her constantly for weeks now, even going so far as to set the TV in the living room to a countdown timer that Sarah had no idea how to deactivate.

"And you know what _that means_!" Laura continued, throwing her door open and leaping onto Sarah's bed.

"Yes, yes. You're going to the academy, I know. We'll leave as soon as you've had breakfast."

Laura's eyes shone with excitement for a moment, then the fire died and her face fell. "I just wish…" she began slowly. Sarah knew exactly where this was headed. "I wish Megan could come."

Megan was her cousin, and some of the only family she had. Sarah's family consisted only of her sister Debbie and her daughter, Megan. Logan was technically Laura's father, but he had maintained explicitly that 'he didn't have the fun and wouldn't accept the responsibility,' though he'd acknowledge her referring to him as 'daddy' for the girl's sake alone.

"Megan's not a mutant, sweetheart," Sarah patiently explained yet again. "And its not like you won't see her. You'll make plenty of new friends there, I promise."

Laura seemed to perk up at this. "I guess," she agreed, hugging Sarah quickly and rushing back to her room. Sarah stood and followed her, concerned. When she peered through the door, she found her, as she did every morning, making her bed with an almost robotic precision. She smoothed it until not a wrinkle remained and turned around, smiling proudly.

Despite herself, Sarah smiled back and ruffled the girl's hair affectionately. "Go get breakfast," She said softly, and the girl bolted from the room. She lowered her head into her hands and collapsed onto the bed sobbing softly. Her eyes tracked left to the small desk where she'd home schooled the girl on every subject from advanced calculus to first year medicine to quantum physics. She absorbed knowledge like nothing else, learning voraciously.

Of course she did. Sarah had willed it so. The four hundred and forty-first base pair in the fourteenth chromosome controlled information retention. Setting the receptors to accept an Adenine base would generate an incredible retention rate.

She couldn't place her in a public or even private schools; how could she? Laura didn't exist. So she had home schooled the girl; an almost impossible task when Laura was smarter than her. It had been four years of explaining concepts that were beginning to escape her in their complexity. And yet in all that time, she was still just a child inside, traumatized by what had been done to her before Sarah had the guts to get her out.

Sarah had lived her life for the girl since, accepting a job under a false identity at a pharmaceutical company that allowed her to work from home so she could be the girls' constant companion. All to show her the love that she was born- no, _bred_- without.

And now she was leaving.

"Mom?" Laura murmured from the door. "Are you okay?"

She could see the trembling in the girl's green eyes. _Her_ eyes; First chromosome, one million, one hundred and fourteen thousand, two hundred and sixth base pair, Cytosine and thymine.

"I'm fine," she lied, knowing that Laura would smell it in an instant. Twenty fourth chromosome. X-gene. Too many base pairs to count, with more genetic hooks to chromosomes four and twelve than she'd ever seen.

"You're lying." Laura's voice was shaking now. "Have I been bad?"

It had taken years to get her to stop asking to be punished.

"No," Sarah replied, entirely truthfully. "You're perfect."

* * *

><p>"Its perfect," Rice said, watching a live breaking news video feed from Denver, Colorado. Everyone in a room with the president-to-be had just collapsed mysteriously. No bloodshed, no flinching. Alive one second and dead the next. "Twice. Now <em>that<em> is product placement."

Police outside rushed into the room, but the assassin wasn't there. Or rather, he wasn't nearby. Unseen by the cameras, in the video control room high above the stage, a lone figure slipped into the shadows, a green glow fading from his eyes.

"A success," Sutter agreed. "Kimura will recover him. I expect the phone to ring any minute. You may begin production of specimens two through forty."

Almost immediately, the old-style rotary phone in Sutter's office rang softly. The two exchanged wan smiles before the elder scientist answered.

"I have a target," The Kingpin, Wilson Fisk's voice came, unimpressed, over the phone, as if lives being bought and sold were casual business. "A drug lord of sorts. He's imposing on my territory, I want him gone."

Sutter smiled acidly, letting his eyes glow with barely suppressed glee.

"Name him."

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><p>"Are we there yet?" Laura asked excitedly as Sarah's black Toyota turned up a rather expensive looking driveway. The cobblestone bumped uncomfortably beneath the all-weather tires and Sarah rolled her eyes for the thousandth time that trip. "Yes, Laura, we're here."<p>

Her bright green eyes roamed the landscape greedily, drinking in every detail. Sarah knew that she'd be memorizing the layout and planning contingency exits. She would find each defensible position (there were plenty) and catalogue it; every hiding spot and evaluate it. Conditioning had been drilled into her and all of those skills had been artificially granted through memory uploads.

False memories. False personality.

Sarah hid her disappointment in herself, determined not to ruin this day for Laura. The girl was excited, as any child should be. Any _real_ child. She had to remind herself that the Facility's conditioning was not absolute; that her daughter could overcome it and show her real personality as she was doing now, even through her learned behaviors that she couldn't avoid.

"Faster, mom!" Laura instructed, practically leaning out of her seat.

_**SNIKT!**_

"Put those away!" Sarah barked, surprised that the girl had just popped her claws. Shiny, indestructible Adamantium coated her natural gifts, protecting them- protecting _her_. It was the one thing Sarah had allowed her to keep of the Facility other than her Pinocchio book. She couldn't bring herself to do as Rice had done; to de-claw the girl by forcibly pulling the weapons from her hands and feet. It wasn't that she wouldn't grow new ones. Sarah knew all too well that before the scientists had time to sharpen coat and mold the claws, new ones had grown a quarter of an inch long. They'd surgically removed them before reinserting the ones she had. Laura, at seven years old, hadn't uttered a peep, although it had to hurt like hell. Rice had done it with no anesthetic.

Sarah had promised her though, she'd never hurt her again.

_**SNAKT!**_

"Sorry, mom," Laura muttered, sitting back. "I was just excited, that's all."

Sarah smiled as she pulled the car to a halt near the garage. "Its alright, dear, it was just…frightening."

Laura smiled reassuringly, and Sarah settled in her seat, reaching for the safety belt.

_**SNIKT!**_

"Laura!"

The girl's laughter drowned out Sarah's reproach, however and the woman allowed herself a smile. It was not because she was amused by Laura's teasing, but because after everything the girl had gone through, that she could now joke and tease and play was a testament to her healing.

"Get out," she said, shooing her as she climbed out of the car herself. "My gosh, I'm glad to be out of this car."

She turned around and started yet again, coming face to face with the burly, unshorn man she'd come to see.

"Logan," came her surprised voice. "You two are terrifying sometimes."

The man blinked once, displeasure evident on his features as he contemplated her comment, but offered no response. Instead, he glanced at Laura, heading to the trunk to seize her belongings, and sniffed once.

Apparently satisfied, he finally cleared his throat. "Hey, half-pint," he called in his brusque baritone. "How's she been treating you?"

Laura looked up slowly at this, realizing he was speaking only of her mother. He never referred to Sarah by name, only as 'her' or 'she' or sometimes even 'the woman.'

"Very well, sir," Laura responded in a hushed tone. To this day she had no idea why her father would treat her mother so poorly, but the only clue she had was that it had something to do with her. Both of her parents were convincingly tight-lipped when it came to the issue and pressing it would usually earn her a brusque dismissal from either.

Even so, she couldn't help the elation she felt at seeing Logan again and she quickly shuffled over and wrapped him in an awkward hug.

"Hello, daddy."

Her head buried in his chest as he wrapped his arms slowly around her, she missed his angry glare he leveled at Sarah. "Hullo, sweetheart. Take yer stuff in. I've got to talk to yer mother, here."

Laura nodded obediently and hurried off, leaving the two adults to discuss whatever they wished.

Logan watched her go, making sure she was out of even his advanced earshot before returning his focus to the woman before him.

"Facility's been movin' again," he said gruffly, crossing his arms.

Sarah's eyes narrowed quickly. "How do you know?"

Logan gave her an irritated look. "How do I know? I live in a giant command center with some of the most powerful beings on the planet, give us a _little_ credit."

He sighed heavily, trying to calm himself. This woman had always _rankled_ him, from the day they'd met at a Las Vegas coffee shop. She'd been clueing him into the Facility's ops and giving them the blueprints they'd needed to raid the show and extract the girl. But she always seemed so damned _evil_. The mad scientist kind of evil too. She always reminded him of _Frankenstein_.

Damn, he'd hated that book, and now the monster was here, in the flesh, calling him 'daddy' of all things.

"Twenty-three people were killed yesterday."

Sarah gasped, covering her mouth. Wide-eyed horror was etched onto her features.

"And here's the kicker. One of them was the leading Presidential Candidate. Again."

Sarah searched his eyes, looking for any hint that he could be mistaken. What she found was absolute certainty. That's what she always found in his eyes. Certainty that he wouldn't speak unless he had something to say. Certainty that he was doing the right thing, what he believed in. Certainty that he would live, if it came down to it. That you would die, because you simply weren't _him._ Sarah envied him that.

But when he looked at Laura she saw doubt, and, although she had no idea why, that gave her hope for the girl.

"You're sure it was them?" she asked, knowing this would draw his ire. She had to be sure though, had to ask.

"I dunno about anybody else that could and would kill a roomful of people with simultaneous aneurysms. And if what you say is true, that means one thing."

"They have the Keller boy," she exclaimed, looking frantic.

"No shit, eh?" he said dryly, looking away. "I noticed we didn't leave with the boy when we raided the place, oh…_four years back_."

"Before we left, I…" she trailed off thinking. "I was given a mapped genome and they asked me to identify it. It had multiple traits consistent in Jean Grey's, Elizabeth Braddocks, and Carter Ghazikhanian. All of those mutants manifested as Telekinetic/Telepaths."

"And it belonged to this Keller person?"

Sarah nodded. "Julian Keller was the name. Oh, God, what have I done now?"

Logan sighed. "Look, yer not responsible fer what they did to this next kid. I'll have Emma track him down and we'll shut them down fer good this time."

As he said this, he tightened his fist considerably, feeling the Adamantium claws within his forearm slide forward until they were just inside his knuckle. Sarah looked quite disturbed at the pattern of ripples and bulges it created beneath his skin as he moved. She took a step back involuntarily.

"Logan, this time, you have to finish it. You know they'll come after her. And the Keller boy, will you kill him too?"

Logan rubbed a massive paw across the nape of his neck, a frown contorting his features. "I dunno. Charles don't like us killin' mutants but this one might be an exception. They made Laura, though and started trainin' her to be a killer, and he's takin' her in, so ya' never know."

Sarah looked troubled at this and turned away from Logan so he couldn't see her apprehensive features.

The mutant sighed heavily. "You feel guilty about this one too, don't you?"

Sarah simply nodded, willing the tears not to flow. She couldn't cry in front of Wolverine!

But her willpower dissolved when a strong hand gripped her shoulder comfortingly. To say she was surprised was understatement to the extreme.

"Save him," she whispered as sobs wracked her body.

Logan sighed and looked up at the second floor window where Laura looked on with troubled eyes.

* * *

><p>"EXCELLENT!" cried Dr. Xander Rice, watching the video feed before him. A group of gunmen had just been cut in half by a wave of green energy as Alpha Weapon ducked and dodged fire from a dozen different angles.<p>

He skirted through the floor of a warehouse, dodging between massive rows of shelving, piles of boxes on wooden pallets, and mountains of cocaine, wrapped into little square bricks for transport. A bulletstorm struck one such mountain, causing the white dust to fly into the air in a phosphorous cloud. Suddenly the whole cloud was captured in a glowing embrace and hurled forcefully at the line of remaining shooters.

The dust dispersed as it reached them, settling into their eyes, mouths and noses in quantities far too large for even the most avid of addicts.

Within seconds, the gunfire ceased as the men clutched at their bleeding noses, dry mouths and burning eyes. Another moment of agony passed and the guards began to drop, one by one, succumbing to the overdose. Zander clapped gleefully, alone in the mission control room. He peered quickly through the glass beside him, looking for any signs of movement, but there were none. He was alone, after hours in a facility that didn't exist.

After Sarah Kinney's betrayal, security measures had tightened significantly. Low-level workers were now in dormitories on the premises and locked in after midnight. Higher level personnel, such as himself, were carded and monitored extensively by the Facilities' head of operations, Martin Sutter.

_Were_, Rice whispered to himself. _After tonight, that's changing._

He watched on the screen with barely suppressed glee as Alpha Weapon battered the drug lord's security forces, leaving none alive to even speak of his existence. Finally, he reached the rooftop, where the Kingpin's target was climbing into an already hovering helicopter.

Rice blinked in surprise as he watched Alpha Weapon's heart rate spike and his blood pressure suddenly increase- signs of tension, nervousness.

Examining the video closely, he saw the drug lord was not climbing into the craft, he was passing a small girl onto the helicopter ahead of himself. He waved the pilot onward, turning to face the Weapon with a rifle in his hand and a steely expression on his face, but the chopper didn't take off.

One very brave or very stupid gunman leaned out of the helicopter and wrapped a rappel line very quickly around his boss' waist and signaled to the pilot.

Alpha weapon remained frozen, rooted to the spot with his vitals going all sorts of erratic.

Narrowing his eyes, Rice pressed a button on the console in front of him. Suddenly, the video went jerky as pain exploded between Alpha Weapon's eyes. A high-frequency sonic pulse generator activated, sending his neural functions haywire.

He covered his face with his hands and fell to one knee, fighting the effects, but despite his turmoil, his heart rate slowed to a slightly elevated level and his vitals began to stabilize.

Rice released the button, knowing what would happen next. Surely enough, a green lance of energy shot through the Helicopter's engine, right above to passenger's cabin. Flame and smoke billowed from the wound and the chopper listed right as control was lost, falling quickly toward the ground.

Then the screen went white as Alpha Weapon's powers exploded outward.

"A failure," came a quiet voice behind Rice.

The scientist jumped nearly a foot into the air, landing back in his seat with a THUMP and reaching belatedly for the pistol in his waist. He fumbled with the device, finally aiming it at the intruder, who only smirked.

"That won't do a thing and you know it," Kimura purred, pushing it aside. "I've been in here as long as you have."

Rice scowled away his surprise, turning back around and settling the pistol on the desk. "It was the little girl he couldn't kill. That's the second one this month. Something in him isn't broken, Kimura, he's holding on to something. Its _your _job to find out what and smash it into a _million tiny_ _pieces_."

Kimura frowned. "He has nothing. I've searched his room a thousand times, there's nothing in there. We've done rectal scans and induced vomit, so he's not hiding it on his person. He has _nothing_. She turned away, disgusted. Maybe a memory. We've been avoiding a memory wipe because of what it might cost in terms of his powers, but we've got a psionic now, right? A powerful one. Maybe she can wipe him."

Rice steeped his fingers, considering this, and nodded. His lip was curled upward into a malicious. "I'll bring it up to Sutter…tomorrow."

Kimura's own smile was hidden by the darkness.

* * *

><p>Alpha Weapon streaked over the Colombian sky, just above the low cumulus clouds that covered his escape. Wrapped in a green cone, he held the little girl in his arms, having discarded the helmet that sent live video back to the Facility. He knew he couldn't stop for long, but he dipped below the clouds briefly, just long enough to shove the girl downward, hurtling her toward the roof of the tallest building he could see. A thought slowed her to a gentle stop and deposited her unconscious form under the warmth of an air conditioning duct. Another thought snapped the lock on the roof access door in two and the door swung outward, giving her an easy route downstairs where someone could find her.<p>

Pushing himself away from the building, he rocketed off into the night sky, breaking the sound barrier as he aimed for the Facility's new headquarters. The thought of leaving didn't cross his mind. He could go nowhere they wouldn't find him and he knew they had more than one base in their network. There was no life for him other than this, so he simply returned, hands shaking uncontrollably, disgusted with himself at the atrocities he'd committed.

When he landed outside the receiving bay, he collapsed to his knees, healing factor not quite making up for the injuries he'd already sustained and the energy he'd expended. But it didn't matter. He would be expected to stand or he'd be beaten quite thoroughly, so stand he did.

His head began to swim as Kimura stepped outside, as it always did in her presence. Something about the neural inhibitor on her collar broadcasting a supersonic frequency that made it impossible to think straight.

"Poor little boy," Kimura snarled. "You got a little headache? Can't think straight?"

She cackled maniacally, laughing in the face of his agony. Alpha Weapon dropped to his knees and stared up at her, eyes glazing over.

"What's wrong? You want your mommy? You don't even _know_ your mommy, you little shit! You don't even know who _you _are!"

Alpha Weapon felt consciousness slipping away from him and as he toppled backward, he realized something he thought he'd forgotten long ago. _I'm…I'm Julian. Julian Keller._

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><p><em>AN: You thought that i wasnt gonna update for a while didnt u? yeah? I got cha! yup! sure did! No, seriously, lemme know what you think! Paperazzi 0uT!_

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	3. Third Entry

_A/N: I bet NOBODY expected THREE updates back to back to back! How do i do it? I'm super man-dude-thing! right? Maybe. Well anyways, keep your eyes peeled cause there's allot of important stuff this chappie. were getting ever closer to their first meeting and BOY is it EPIC i've gotta say. I'm like a one man hype machine, i tell ya. Enjoy! and pPLEASE please please review for cookies! I'd love to know what you all are thinking!_

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><p><strong>Savior<strong>

**Third Entry**

Laura's eyes snapped open, her pupils instantly dilating to allow as much light as possible to filter through. The details of the murky room came quickly into focus; the wooden four-poster, the smooth cream paint along the walls. A faint purple light from the other bed signaled that her roommate was still awake, as usual.

Laura rolled over slightly, adjusting her position so she could see the girl's bed. The dream she had been having was far too vivid to be just another nightmare. Cold sweat covered her from head to toe, soaking through her nightclothes.

Had she really been water boarded with that sickly-sweet smelling liquid? She couldn't really remember. The atrocities that she'd gone through were a like distant memory. Like someone _else's_ memory

"Nori?" she called out, her small voice seeming to drown in the muddled emo rock blasting from Noriko Ashida's headphones.

Laura heard every distorted note with perfect clarity and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Nori?" she tried a little louder. Still no response. The girl had either fallen asleep with her music up loud or simply could not hear anything above it. It was her usual response to Laura falling asleep. Every morning for a week now, Laura had woken to the sound of her music. Sometimes the song was soft and soothing, but more often than not, it was loud and boisterous and rude.

Frustration seeped through the girl and she breathed slowly trying to eliminate it. Her sensei had taught her long ago how to overcome her anger and frustration. If she didn't manage to, her claws would pop out as if having a mind of their own. She glanced down at her wrists, ramrod-straight with a slight rippling between the metacarpal bones. Her claws were sliding back and forth, itching their way out…

Laura clamped down on her feelings, forcing herself to throw aside her cover and rush out of her room, leaving the door ajar in her flight to the girl's bathroom down the hall. Halfway there, however, she paused as her nose picked up the remains of a familiar scent.

"Daddy," she whispered to herself. "He was just here."

Abandoning her previous agenda, she followed the trail, not even needing to crouch to better catch the scent. Logan reeked so heavily of beer and cigarettes she hardly had to try. The search led her to an elevator where it ended. Laura pressed the down button, knowing there was nothing above but a greenhouse and Logan hated all plants not named marijuana.

The elevator _dinged_ its arrival, an inordinately cheery noise for such a boring contraption, but Laura climbed in anyway, and sure enough, Logan's scent was there, but mixed with another quite a bit too closely for comfort, unfamiliar one. A decidedly feminine scent, though with the notable addition of gun grease. She guessed at their destination pressing the lowermost floor, where the garage was housed and was rewarded when the trail continued, a bit stronger this time.

Following it, however, led directly to a metal wall. She looked down the hallway as it continued in both directions. She knew one way led to the garage, the other to the underground hangar and the Danger Room, which was honestly where she expected it to go, but his scent stopped decidedly at the wall. She pressed a finger to the surface tentatively, testing it, but it pushed firmly back. Laura pressed an ear to it now, apparently satisfied that it was, indeed, real and voices, slightly muffled, wafted through.

She let out a slight gasp when she heard Logan's voice.

"-do we have to do it _tonight_ Cyke? X-force is hardly at full strength and we don't know what we're up against." Logan.

"Yes, you do. We've got reliable intel that puts them at these coordinates _today_ do you want to wait and see if they move again? Finish this _now._" Scott Summers. Laura had only met him that day, but his authoritative voice was unmistakable.

"I agree with goggles," came another voice. A female this time, and Laura's hackles immediately raised at the sound. She sounded sultry, _slutty_ even and Laura knew she wouldn't like her. "We might not get another crack at this. I've waited years to put a bullet in that invincible bitch's head and I've got just the round from Liz. She's got the _sweetest_ connections."

"_Elizabeth_ is in England right now, dealing with the death of her brother, Domino," Cyclops replied. "So I won't even ask of you obtained those legally."

"You never do," She replied, the smirk evident in her voice. Laura _seethed_. Who was this woman? And why was her scent all over her father's? Laura's knuckled burned again, begging her to unleash her fury on this wench.

"I don't like it," Logan muttered. "At all."

"Understood," Cyclops agreed. "Neither do I, but that's why X-force goes anywhere. Our intelligence says the facility they may be dispatching their weapon again, so you must hurry. Kill him before he kills anyone else. No witnesses, alright?"

Laura's blood ran cold. The Facility was their target?

"Yeah, we know the drill, bub. If Kinney hadn't dumped her little brain-child on us I'd feel a lot more comfortable about this, but what are you guys gonna do if she goes ballistic an' I'm not here? I heard her screaming in her sleep a few minutes ago."

Laura slumped against the wall, but couldn't bear to take her ear off of it, lest she miss a single word. _I was screaming? _

It was silent for a while as Laura tried in vain to still her claws.

"No, Jimmy, you're not staying. She'd tear you a new hole, man, I've seen what she can do."

More silence.

"Will you just shut up? I need you tonight covering my ass. 'Nuff said."

Scott cleared his throat. "Jimmy, you're going. Logan, I'll deal with Laura. Noriko Ashida may have to be moved as well. She said she's sleeping with her headphones on because the girl is too loud. But that's beside the point. She's _your_ clone Logan and ultimately your responsibility. I don't think she's dangerous, but Emma would like nothing more than to have her terminated-"

Laura didn't hear anything else. She backed away slowly. Logan's _clone?_ No. He was her father. Wasn't he?

She wracked her brain even as she bumped into the cold metal of the elevator door. Her fingers found the button almost automatically and the door slid open.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, falling hot and fast and a sob escaped her lips as the door closed. Clamping her hands over her mouth, she rushed out as soon as the doors opened again. Nori kept her headphones up because of _her? _ It didn't seem fair. She couldn't control who she was any more than the next person! Her childhood was a blur of blood and torture and killing before her mother and Logan, but who was this Emma and why should she be terminated?

Somehow, Laura found the bathroom and she ducked into the shower, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she cranked the hot water up as far as it would go. She stripped off her clothes, throwing them down into the growing puddle on the floor, uncaring.

Finally ready, she ducked under the scalding spray, crouching into a fetal ball. The itching in her wrist was at a fever pitch now, and she let the claws slide out ever so slowly, wincing as they easily cut the flesh between her fingers.

Blood trickled down her knuckles and as soon as her eyes picked up the vibrant red, her nose detected the tangy metallic smell, she felt herself calming. Pain was reassuring, familiar, constant. She had always known pain, so when her world didn't seem real, she fled to the pain to remind herself.

Her claws drew thin lines in familiar patterns across her wrists and forearms and within seconds, she felt herself getting lightheaded from the blood loss. She glanced over her shoulder as she sat on the tile, worried someone might find her, but no movement met her eyes. More telling would be the bloodstains left in the tile floors, but she had long practiced this. The hot water would drain away all the blood, keep it from congealing.

Even now, as she practiced her oldest vice, the rivers of crimson flowed neatly along the curved floor until they disappeared, leaving no trace behind. Laura felt her tension easing with each cut, her mind clearing, her heart slowing. The wounds were healing as quickly as she could make them but they would bleed for a few seconds each time, and a few seconds were all she needed.

Besides, they were beginning to close more slowly each time as part of her healing factor began to account for the blood loss too. It always happened this way.

* * *

><p>The lacerations healed, so slowly-so <em>painfully<em> slowly- before his eyes. Fire burned along his arms, his back, his chest and legs. Every inc h of him was poisoned, painful. Agony was his world. But the pain was his familiar and he accepted it, acknowledged it and understood it. It gave him clarity and purpose. He had to get _away_ from it.

He had a life before the pain and the beatings and the shock torture. Before Kimura and Sutter and Rice dominated his life. If he laid in his bed and concentrated, he could remember palm trees, and endless white beaches. An expensive car and the feeling of a smile on his face. A girl with the most intriguing green eyes…

"I think he's unconscious again."

A voice, so distant and fleeting pierced the haze. The pain slowly receded- so _painfully _slowly- as his body worked to heal itself. In minutes it would finish. Would knit itself back together no matter how badly they would hurt him.

"No matter. Take him to the cleaning room and hose him down."

It would take a little while. Fifteen minutes, maybe. When they started it took days. He'd thought he was going to die, but slowly, surely, his body healed what should have taken weeks in a few days. A few days became one day; became half a day; became an hour or two. Over the years, the beatings increased in frequency proportionally to his rate of healing. If he recovered in an hour, he'd be beaten again in four. If he recovered in thirty minutes, two hours later, he knew what to expect. They gave him just time enough to train in between before reinforcing that he was their _tool_.

"I've got a surprise for you, boy."

The voice he'd always hated, even from the moment she arrived in his life. He could barely remember. A black limo pulling to a stop in front of him. A briefcase accepted by a woman who might have been his mother once. At the dark skin he'd first been curious, excited. Now her face brought bile to his throat and an intolerable pain to his temples. He fell just a bit from being carried- _I was being carried?_ - and rested flat on his back.

"Stay right there, I'll be back."

He felt the pain no more. The pain was gone which meant that he'd be beaten again, and soon. He had healed, and he still didn't quite know how. It didn't happen in his earliest memories. Before the mind-wipe. Before the radiation treatment that made his hair fall out. He knew that much.

"Ughn…" came a moan. Was it from his lips? It must have been. It came just after a needle injected something into his vein. Another haze settled over him, deeper and murkier than the fog of unconsciousness. He felt an uncomfortable tug beneath his waist and realization struck.

_Oh, this again._

A moment passed and with it went a variety of sensations. His clothing was torn away and warm liquid sprayed across him, washing away the sticky feeling of dried blood on new skin. Something different happened this time, though. A pressure on his hips and the feeling of pressing into something warm and wet.

"Uhn…" another moan. _Was that me?_ No. it couldn't have been. It sounded far away again. Hands slid across him, raking nails down his chest.

Pain welled up, fresh and fierce and he felt the distinct dribble of warm blood across his abdomen. The pressure on his waist lessened, then returned and the pattern repeated, each time generating a moan from _her._ Bile rose in his throat again as he realized what was happening. His eyes opened slowly, just in time to see a corded whip being wrapped around his throat.

_She _was straddling his waist, sliding back and forth on his member, her leather pants hanging from one leg, all but forgotten. He raised a hand to stop her, sluggish as he was, he wouldn't be _abused_ like this!

But the whip tightened around his throat and her eyes swam into focus, inches from his own. His mind fought to comprehend what was occurring, but everything was in slow motion, every sound amplified. He knew this feeling. He was _drugged_.

"You're awake huh? Well that means I'll get to enjoy this even more!"

She drew her hand back impossibly quickly and suddenly, breathing was no longer an option. His face contorted in pain and her demonic grin only grew wider. Her eyes lolled back in pleasure as she caused him pain but still all he could do was croak weakly, swatting at her with too-slow arms.

Finally it all ended, a rush for her and a sickening spray. He could breathe again and he gasped loudly, unable to make any other sound.

Kimura stood, laughing as she lashed the whip across his already bloody chest. "That was good, Weapon. Perhaps we could make this a regular thing."

And she was gone, straightening her pants as she sauntered away. Another spray hit him and orderlies cleaned him properly as he fought for air.

His stomach dropped from beneath him as he realized what that meant. "You…" he gasped out. "You _watched her_?"

The orderlies said nothing as they replaced his torn and tattered clothing with fresh garments. His body was fighting off the effects of the drugs and he felt his consciousness returning. With it, came a furious swell of anger.

"_You watched her do that to me?"_

Alpha Weapon rolled to his side, throwing his feet haphazardly down beneath him, but his rage died quickly as a taser was pressed to his still-wet neck.

"You're a tool," one of the orderlies answered as he lay twitching. "You're nothing. Besides, I'd _pay_ to bang that broad. You should be thanking her."

"I know, right?" agreed another orderly, shocking Julian again as their laughter rang out in the small room. "You ungrateful prick. You _should _thank her!"

"Enough!" the new voice carried loud and clear through the room. Zander Rice had returned for his prize.

Alpha Weapon breathed slowly and deeply as he staggered to his feet, meeting Rice's gaze with his own determined stare.

"Are you upset, boy?" Rice's eyes were gleeful, but at what?

"No, sir," Alpha Weapon responded, lowering his head. "Your agent. Kimura. She-"

"DID I ORDER YOU TO SPEAK?" Rice roared. Spit flying from his mouth.

He fell silent immediately. "No, sir."

"Good. Kimura!"

The handler stepped into the bare room, slinking along the metal walls with a self-satisfied, predatory grin. "Yes, Doctor?" she answered, her voice hard, defiant.

Rice paused, walking in a slow circle around the subject. "Did you violate the terms of your contract in any way, shape or form?"

Kimura's smile broadened and she aimed it squarely at Alpha Weapon. "Not at all, boss," she purred, running an invincible finger across his jawline.

"Good, Kimura," Rice murmured agreeably. "Orderlies, please exit."

The two men shuffled out, murmuring quietly to each other.

"I have a new mission for you," Rice said quietly, almost whispering. "Details are in this folder."

He extended a hand holding a small manila envelope and Julian took it quickly and opened it. Two pictures fell out, one he knew well and one he did not. He looked up at Rice quickly, but saw only his retreating back. Kimura cackled as she followed him out of the chamber, leaving the door open behind him. The noise in his ears died, and his blinked in sudden disorientation as he felt his powers flooding back. An invitation to begin. To begin _immediately._

_Twenty-two minutes,_ he thought, peering down at the pictures. He flipped them over and, as always, hastily scribbled words detailed names, homes and phone numbers. He had no sense of time in the Facility, so for them to give him their home locations, it had to be night.

Another phrase caught his eye. 'O_ne day' _it read, beneath the second address.

Alpha Weapon looked over the names one more time then committed the faces to memory as he repeated them in his head. His mantra to ensure he always got the proper target. It hadn't failed him yet.

_Martin Sutter.  
>Martin Sutter.<br>Martin Sutter._

_Sarah Kinney.  
>Sarah Kinney.<br>Sarah Kinney._

* * *

><p><em>Paperazzi 0uT!<em>

l  
>\


	4. Fourth Entry

_A/N: Wow, I'm really getting attached to this story. This is my fourth update in like a week. I'd LOOOOVE to know what you guys think. It doesn't seem to be as popular as Ties that Bind, but i think plot-wise its a doozie. you all have NO IDEA what I've got planned for these two. Just read and find out..._

_BariSexyDame- thanks for that! i've been learning German and Japanese on my own, and i appreciate the help! I'll definitely go back and correct that stuff!_

_oh and Canuck101 - they meet. nuff said._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Savior<strong>

**Fourth Entry**

"OHMIGOD! OHMIGOD! OHMIGOD!"

A shrill shriek broke the murky nothingness of sleep and Laura cracked open one crusted eye. Above her stood a girl made seemingly entirely of metal. Save her hair, she seemed to have mutated into a completely metallic version of an otherwise normal high school teenager.

It was at that precise moment that Laura realized she was on the floor and she sat up almost too quickly Then Laura realized _why_ she was on the floor.

She lay naked in the showers still, claws thankfully retracted during her blood-loss induced slumber. But sometime during the night she had rolled away from the still-churning shower's now cold spray. She stood, staring the girl in her eyes, no thought spared for something as trivial as modesty.

"Hi," the girl murmured, somewhat more calmly as Laura turned off the spray. "Are you okay?"

The air was thick with the humid chill of cold water's constant spray and goosebumps rolled over Laura's body.

She ignored them.

"I do not wish to discuss this," She muttered curtly, brushing quickly past.

"Wait!" hollered the metal girl, catching her arm. Laura's brows rose as she noted the arm in question had extended several times its normal length. "You can't just walk out like that, its ten AM. Here, take my towel, 'cause your clothes are soaked."

The towel was pink and fluffy with designs of flowers embroidered over it and carried the distinct smell of chamomile. Despite this, she hesitantly accepted the proffered article, wrapping it around herself slowly, but relishing the warmth and dryness.

"You know, you don't have to talk about that if you don't want to, but would you like to grab some coffee or something? I'm Cessily. Cessily Kincaid."

Laura blinked and sniffed the air once by reflex. She could usually pick up on the endocrine reactions of people trying to deceive or hurt her, but all she got was an overwhelming scent of mercury.

She waged a brief internal war with her emotions, half of which told her not to trust this girl, or anyone for that matter. The other half told her that her concerned smile was genuine and that this girl was what her mother referred to as 'the elusive_ friend_.'

_But I have a friend. Megan is my friend._

That sentence fought desperately against the unenviable fact that Megan wasn't _there. _Megan wouldn't be coming there. Laura was alone.

In seconds, her mind was made up and she bolted for the door, not looking back on Cessily's resigned expression.

She ran for her room, but her footsteps fell short when she heard punk rock blasting from behind the door. Noriko wasn't yet awake and Laura was loath to encounter her, of all people. Last night's words burned in her ears.

"_Noriko Ashida may have to be moved as well. She said she's sleeping with her headphones on because the girl is too loud."_

She took two steps backward before she turned and fled the other direction…running smack into Cessily Kincaid as she did so.

"Oof!" Laura hit the floor, winded, but it was Cessily who made the noise, though she didn't appear to be hurt at all.

Laura looked at her resignedly, realizing her predicament and straightening the towel she'd been given.

"I require clothing," she murmured almost too quietly to hear.

Cessily's face lit up though, and she helped Laura to her feet. "That's fine! You look about my size anyway, you can just borrow some of my stuff!"

She found herself being pulled along into the girls' room, which she apparently had to herself. There was only one bed, and a large percentage of the room was adorned in pink. Laura noted a cheerleading outfit and pom-poms displayed rather prominently beside her nightstand. Her bed was made up with a single theme displayed rather prominently.

"What is Hello Kitty?" Laura wondered aloud.

Cessily did a double take before following Laura's gaze to her bedspread and laughing. "You've never seen Hello Kitty on T.V.?" she asked, somewhat incredulous as she began digging through her considerable closet.

Laura's voice was quiet when she replied. "I was not allowed to watch television. My mother deemed it indicative of the world's ills and speculated that it would hamper my recovery."

Cessily was quiet after that, even as she handed Laura a pair of gray sweatpants and a green t-shirt to wear.

Thanking her, Laura left quickly, promising to return her clothes someday, which confused Cessily to no end. Barefoot and without a dime in her borrowed pockets, Laura headed for the front door, where she could find her autumn jacket in the coat room. She would need it. She had a long walk ahead of her.

Taking only her spare house key and a few dollars from a pocket, she took someone else's nondescript black hoodie instead of her own jacket. Knowing her mother, she would have some sort of tracking device sewn into her own coat.

She stepped out of the coat room, head down and hood up and heard a familiar pair of footfalls behind her. _Daddy._

"Jus' where d'ya think yer goin'?" His gruff baritone grated against her ears, drawing tears as if he'd physically accosted her.

The words hung in the air, Laura paying them no mind. Instead focusing on her toes, she fought the surge of unfamiliar emotion roaring through her chest, constricting the muscles in her stomach and choking sobs from her throat.

"Leave me alone," she gasped out, before sprinting away. She was faster than he was by a hair, but she didn't want to be near him. He reeked of death and blood that was not his own and she _hated _that life. He was no less of a weapon than she, and to her, he had nothing to offer in terms of redemption.

So she fled. Even as his motorcycle roared up behind her, she merely ducked into the ample foliage the Xavier's campus allowed. It wasn't long before she reached the gate. A single claw each extended from her fist and her bloodied foot and sliced away a bar of wrought iron before she slipped through.

Retracting her claws quickly, she ducked into the streets beyond, her physical injuries healing far faster than those inside. After only a few steps, blood no longer trailed her feet and she aimed herself for the one place she knew she would feel safe.

_I'm Julian Keller. I'm not a weapon. I'm not Alpha Weapon. I'm Julian Keller._

The sentence sounded false in his head as he toyed with the thought. Trite, futile. Just plain incorrect.

He watched the corpse of a six year old boy burn at his feet. The acrid stench of death assaulted his nostrils, barely concealed by the burning wood and scorched earth. Martin Sutter's body lay a few feet away, arm still outstretched trying to put out the fire that claimed his wife and son's lives as well. Julian had kicked the fire extinguisher just out of reach and Sutter had died moments before.

It was interesting.

A man on fire, by all likely scenarios, should be focused solely on putting out that fire, and then dealing with whatever tragedies he'd endured after ensuring his own survival. When the fire consumes too much critical matter, he should die, plain and simple.

Martin Sutter defied all of that logic.

When he had caught fire, he tried to put it out, sure, but at some point, he'd given up. Julian thought that was the moment he should have died. Scientifically, he should have at least been in a state of shock at that point. But he had tried so desperately after that to reach the fire extinguisher. His eyes never left his son.

Long after the fire had dried his eyeballs and melted his facial features, he had tried to crawl forward, nothing more than a corpse himself, and save the boy.

This odd behavior had only begun after seeing both the fire extinguisher and the burning boy.

Was it hope? Love? Stupidity? A combination of the three? Alpha Weapon – _Julian_ – didn't understand.

To him it was simply illogical. A green glow rose in his eyes and he lifted into the air, headed for his next target. He would complete the mission early. Return home.

One target left.

It seemed like she had been walking forever. Her feet hurt. Her toes were cold. Her leg muscles ached. In reality it had only been twenty hours or so, but it felt much longer. She had made it, however. She was home. She rounded the corner to her suburban street and instantly knew something was wrong.

Her first clue was that the street lights were out. All of them.

Her pulse quickened as she ran the last few yards, not at all hampered by the lack of light. Now thankful that her shoes were safely back at the institute, she walked silently to the door, her feet making no sound on the wooden stairs. Light as a feather, she slipped into the house, avoiding the floorboards she knew would creak below her.

The air was warm where she stood and smelled of burned wood and flesh and ionization. Someone had just entered the house. Heart now pounding, she rounded the corner, heading directly to her mother's room.

She saw a figure slip insde. Tall, broad shouldered, male. His movements were strong, confident, deliberate. He reeked of death. They were coming for her. The Facility.

They were _here._

Ice flooded Laura's veins and suddenly the sound of her pulse roared in her ears. Her vision sharpened and focused on the doorframe the man had just stepped through. She crept forward, no longer timid; aggressive now. Every bit the assassin she had been trained to be.

"Oh," she heard her mother murmur calmly. "Hello Julian."

Laura froze. _Julian._ She _knew_ that name, but from where? And why did her mother suddenly sound so apprehensive?

"I'm," she heard the man say. A footstep as he stumbled backward. "I'm not…You know my name?"

He sounded disoriented, confused, hurt. Was his mother fighting him back? There were no sounds of a struggle.

"Of course I do. You are Julian Keller. I assume Zander Rice sent you here to kill me? It is about time I answered for my crimes."

The rustle of fabric. He was moving again. Laura tensed, waiting for her opportunity. She peered into the room through the crack in the doorway, seeing only his back. His hands were at his side. He carried no weapons.

_Then how…_ But Laura didn't need an explanation. He was a mutant. He'd kill her whether he had a gun or not.

"Before you do this Julian, allow me to speak. I never wanted this to happen to you." Sarah was crying now. Laura could hear the slight waver in her voice that always preceded tears. "You and Laura…you've been wronged so much, and I wish I had known. I wish I could have made things right for you."

The assassin was silent, unflinching, unmoving.

"When they brought you in it was the last straw. I organized a rescue, but they had already moved you. I saved Laura though. Laura is wonderful. Everything I could have hoped she could be and more. I know her. I love her. She will have to do what I could not. She will save you."

Sarah's voice trailed off and Laura heard another rustle of fabric. His arm raised, hand outstretched. This was it, her opportunity.

A feral scream escaped her lips as she shot forward, a noise she hadn't known she was capable of making. She leapt toward him, claws extending in flight. He would _not _be killing her mother. Not if she had a say in it.

Her claws descended at his neck as if in slow motion, the moment seeming to freeze before her hand reached him. The adamantium nicked his skin, drawing a small trickle of blood that dribbled quickly over her claw.

Laura realized at that moment that her perception of time hadn't changed. Time itself hadn't slowed. She had stopped _moving. _

The only sound as the man turned to face her was Sarah's startled gasp. "Laura, _no!_"

Then their eyes met and it was Laura's turn to be surprised. The deepest blue eyes stared at her through puddles of pain and worlds of agony. Still present was the defiance, the confidence, but gone was the innocence, embarrassment, curiosity. He was the same boy that she'd become fixated on so long ago, but she had forgotten him since and he was changed. Different.

"Julian," she whispered, startled.

Recognition flashed in his eyes as he stared back. She hung in the air, inches from severing his aorta and jugular vein. He blinked once then took a step back, his gaze hardening, and Laura realized that this was not the boy she once knew. He was going to kill her.

And he was trying to kill her mother.

Another snarl escaped her lips and she swung her foot in a perfect arc. Another claw extend to rip away his jugular vein, but he blasted her backward with a wave of the same green energy he'd used to halt her attack. She sailed through the wall, splintering it with the force of the impact and landed in a heap in the hall outside.

"Laura!" Sarah yelled, leaping to her feet now. "Julian, stop it! Both of you!"

They ignored her, though, Laura hurling a picture frame that had come crashing down with her. Julian blasted it back toward her, but she had expected that. She sliced it in two and let the pieces bounce harmlessly off of her, jamming her claws toward his throat in what would be a lethal strike.

Julian sidestepped the blow, following it with a punch to her gut that lifted her a few inches off the ground. Blood spurted from her mouth as the air left her lungs in a rush, but she snapped a back fist punch at him that he was forced to duck.

Laura kicked at his legs and tripped him, but before he could land on her waiting foot-claw, his motion stopped. A green glow surrounded him and he quickly levitated himself to the ceiling, out of her reach. Or so he thought.

Cat-like, the girl leapt up at him, jamming her claws into the ceiling at an angle to anchor herself and swinging her legs up at him, feet together in another attempt to impale him.

His eyes shot open in surprise as he dodged the attack, startled by her ferocity.

Not missing a beat, she twisted her legs quickly, jamming her foot-claws into the ceiling at an angle now and allowing her body to twist with it. Maintaining the maneuver throughout her upper body, she swung until she was upside down on the ceiling, then crawled toward him quickly, spider-like.

Julian shoved her with another wave of energy and she slid backward, claws digging furrows in the ceiling, but withstood the blast. As soon as the pressure ceased, she charged forward again, leaping toward him and wrapping her arms around his midsection.

He fell about half a foot before Laura reared her arm back and punched him as hard in the gut as she could. Her claws exploded from his back and he let out a strangled cry before he dropped them both. She landed on her back a split second before he shoved himself down, knees first, into her gut.

The floor bowed inward from the force and they fell again, through the floor into the basement. When the world snapped back into focus, Laura stared up at his eyes. He raised a glowing hand, ready to finish it and instinct took over. Her legs swung up again, burying both her foot claws into his back had been aiming for his spine, but his scream of agony was an acceptable alternative. She _wanted_ him to suffer.

Lifting her into the air as he dropped to one knee, he hurled her upward, putting her through the floor in the other direction this time, and she slammed into the first floor ceiling before landing in a heap on the kitchen counter.

A chunk of roof fell on her back and Laura rolled groggily, slinging it at him like a makeshift Frisbee before leaping back into the hole.

She snapped her neck left as she fell and felt the vertebrae pop back into place and Julian winced as the tile impacted the fresh wounds in his back.

He whipped around to face Laura, panting and she reset her dislocated arm, glaring back with fresh loathing.

"I will _kill you!_" She snarled, leaping forward, good arm first. He shoved her through the ceiling again and this time her knee impacted a large pipe before she landed in a heap in the living room. She knew her knee would be useless for a least a few minutes, but she staggered to her feet, crawling into the hallway in time to see Julian rising from below.

They were assassins. Murderers trained to always kill their targets. If an opponent had a moment of weakness, no matter how slight, the objective always came first. Kill the target. Even if she were to lose the fight afterward, the mission took priority. As Laura limped forward, she knew she wasn't the objective. Her mother was the objective.

Dropping to her hands and knees she scampered across the floor on her three good limbs, desperate to reach Sarah first. And the shortest distance between two objects was always a straight line.

Two quick slashes later, a diamond shaped hole in the wall appeared and Laura entered her mother's bedroom seconds before Julian, standing shakily on her still-healing leg, squarely between himself and Sarah.

"You will not harm my mother," she declared, crossing her claws in front of her.

Julian blinked, but Sarah stepped forward herself, standing confidently between the two.

"Laura, you must stop this now." Her eyes implored Laura, beseeching her. "I know he is misguided, but he can be saved, just as you were."

"He is _filth,_" Laura seethed, spitting the last word. "I will kill him!" She hobbled forward another step and he raised his hand again, blasting her into the wall yet again. Slamming into a support pillar this time, her head snapped off the wooden beam, and she fell behind her mother's bed.

She didn't hear Sarah's anguished cries. The ringing in her ears precluded that. She didn't hear the sound of sirens outside as police finally arrived. Without seeing, she reached for the nightstand beside her where she knew her mother kept a secret, jammed her claw into the wood and sliced the lock away.

Her fingers groped in the darkness and she gripped the cold steel feeling the worn wooden grip. She had suffered brain damage, she knew. Something in the last hit had blinded her, but she could still smell, she couldn't hear but she could feel the heat from his body. He hadn't moved and she _knew_ where he was.

Laura raised the revolver and pulled the double action trigger. The weapon pulsed in her hand and she had no idea if the shot hit, so she fired again. This time, she heard a dim roar with the shot and a flash of white penetrated the sea of darkness. Her senses were healing, slowly, surely. Laura ducked when she felt a sudden shift in the air pressure and a wave of energy passed over her head. Her hair stood on end from the energy of the wave and she darted around the edge of the bed, navigating by instinct alone.

The pressure waves had always come directly from his hands and the epicenter was just about…there.

Laura jammed her claws into something warm and wet and moist and alive. She heard an audible gasp, and twisted her fist, doing as much damage as possible.

Her vision slowly cleared and she willed it to clear faster as she felt his blood running down her fist. Sound finally made it through the haze that was her shattered eardrums. He was choking out his last few breaths. Pleasure raced through her and chills shot up her spine. A grin spread across her lips, feral and lustful and wild.

"I told you I would kill you," she murmured, pressing her cheek to his and jerking her claws violently upward into his sternum.

But something was wrong. The cheek she pressed hers to was far too low to be above his tall shoulders. Soft hair fell across her nose and traces of an all-too familiar shampoo clung to it.

"No…" she breathed, as realization dawned on her.

Indestructible claws slipped quickly from ripped flesh and her bloodied hands slowly, shaking, trailed upward toward what her blind eyes could not see. She took shuddering breath where her mother took none and her hand came into contact with something sharp and metal. It pricked her finger but she examined it, recognized the shape. A combat knife.

Trembling fingers followed it to its base, barely an inch was exposed before she came in contact with soft flesh. A collarbone, a slender, graceful neck.

Colors returned, indistinct and blurred. Red obscured all but a tiny speck of green before her. Her mother's eyes. _Her_ eyes.

The sharp CRACK of a sonic boom met her ears and she felt her mother's body sag, no longer supported.

Laura caught her reflexively and fell with her, cradling her head as the tears flowed from her still damaged eyes. A loud CRASH sounded as the front door was thrown open. Her anguished screams did not deter the humans that swarmed around her. Bright lights shone over her, visible only as a change in the hue of the blurred colors as voices implored her obey. Strong hands tugged her mother from her grasp and she slipped away, fading into nothingness.

* * *

><p><em>You know what to do. Paperazzi OuT!<em>

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	5. Fifth Entry

_A/N: Hi! I'm back. that means more HeliX. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Savior<strong>

**Fifth Entry**

He stood at the gate, unwilling to enter. Unwelcome. Unwanted.

Alone.

The Facility was rubble. Not a soul was living when he returned to report his mission's success. Part of him was overjoyed. He had no standing orders and no backup location to travel to. He was free until they sent someone after him. If he wanted to, he could fake his own death in the rubble. It wasn't far from him, only a few miles, but something in him feared what would happen if he was caught. He hadn't seen Kimura's body in the wreckage and she couldn't be killed anyway, could she?

No, Kimura would surely come after him. He shuddered at the thought.

But the black clouds looming over the sanctuary before him reflected perfectly the apprehension in his soul.

He'd just killed a woman.

He'd killed many women. Old women, young women. Smart women, dumb women. He killed who he was ordered to kill. That was his purpose. That was his lot in life.

It wasn't the fact that he'd killed a woman that bothered him.

He'd just killed a mother.

He'd killed many mothers. Grandmothers, new mothers. He'd killed them in front of their daughters before, too. So why was this one bothering him?

He'd just killed _her_ mother.

The search had lasted years, but he'd found her. He knew from the moment he'd stepped into her house, seen the photos on the mantelpiece. Every little girl he'd seen with dark hair, he'd spared, unable to kill as the Facility directed him to, and the moment she'd attacked him, he found himself unable to kill her either.

She was no little girl anymore. She'd almost killed him, but the girl with no name still haunted his nightmares. He'd had several chances. Her technique was sloppy. She was out of practice.

But still he couldn't.

Now he stood in front of an old chapel, the chorus of Sunday evening service echoing across the lawn and past the wrought iron gate at which he halted.

And the tears.

Julian hadn't understood when it began. The girl's blind rage had unforeseen consequences. He was going to end up killing her, or at least wounding her. He hadn't aimed for a fatal spot; her left shoulder.

She had charged him, but the mother moved so quickly…

It was obvious that she had been blinded by one of his attacks. Until the moment that the life left Sarah Kinney, her daughter believed that she had slain _him._

And for some reason, he cried.

And for some reason, he was still crying.

He turned away from the church, stalking off into the bitter cold of early winter. His mission gear did little to keep him warm, but he owned nothing else.

So he walked, head low, trying to hide his red eyes.

* * *

><p>Logan found her in a police holding cell, curled up in the corner, knees in her chest. She was still barefoot and covered in blood, wearing tattered, loose fitting clothes. She'd obviously been in a fight, but with Sarah dead, that left him her only guardian.<p>

Logan sighed heavily. "You can let the little girl out already," he told the guard.

The man, a young, bright-eyed officer, probably fresh out of training, leapt up quickly from his seat. "I'm sorry, I've been ordered not to let out any mutants without the captain's approval."

"And where is the captain?" A new voice called out from behind Logan. Strong, authoritative. That was Scott Summers. Always running the show.

Logan smirked, smelling fear rise up from the officer. He was already afraid of Logan, dressed in plainclothes, a pair of tough, durable jeans, some boots and a worn, brown leather jacket. He knew he looked unassuming enough, but people told him he _commanded _respect. Fear even. In reality, he did no such thing.

People were just wusses.

"T-th-the captain will be in on…M-Monday," The guard stuttered in response. Scott strode into the room, hands in the pockets of his neatly pressed slacks, wearing a shirt and tie.

Logan facepalmed. Now they'd look like a classic good-cop, bad-cop routine, in a police station and they weren't even officers. _Why does he always do this to me?_

"Monday?" Scott repeated incredulous. "This girl has just lost her mother, and you're trying to keep her until _Monday_?"

"This girl _killed_ her _own_ mother, from what I've been told-"

"No she didn't." Logan glared at the man, daring him to challenge him. "This is my….daughter. She did no such thing."

He caught Cyclops' almost imperceptible amused smirk at his hesitation. He would pay for that later.

"Look, sir, I'm sorry about your wife but-"

Logan's eyebrows shot skyward. "Wife? Who said she was my wife? Stop worrying about shit that's clearly above your pay grade or I'll-"

"Explain to you exactly why you should let the girl out," Scott interrupted smoothly. "We are her guardians right now. That girl was held in a cell like this as a child, experimented on and brutally tortured. Now she's lost her mother too. She needs to be loved and cared for now more than ever, and you're holding her in another cell, probably causing irreparable harm to her psyche."

"Not to mention she could leave anyway if she wanted to," Logan added dryly.

The guard had begun to sweat and he backed up a step involuntarily.  
>"I can't. I'll be <em>fired.<em>"

SNIKT!

"You'll lose a lot more than your job if she's not out in ten seconds," Logan growled, the claws jutting from his right fist gleaming in the light.

* * *

><p>Laura trailed at their heels as they headed back to the car waiting outside. She followed silently, only moving because she was ordered to as they argued in front of her.<p>

"Good-cop, bad-cop? Really Scott? I thought you'd finished watching Miami Vice re-runs."

"It worked, didn't it? And claws? Really? You know you're on camera in there! If I have to call Fury one more time, he's going to flay me, I swear."

"So shoot him with your eye. He'll stop bitching. Oh wait, I forgot, you _negotiate_ everything."

"Asshole."

"Pussy."

Scott fell silent, his cheeks burning as he jumped into his classic Mustang convertible.

Laura slid obediently into the backseat, almost invisible to the men in front. The ride back to the mansion was silent before: "So what do we do with her?"

Scott's question was directed at Logan, but Laura paid it no heed. She was used to being talked about as if she weren't there. There was silence and the question hung in the air; a catch 22 that no one anticipated.

"We ask Chuck, I guess," Logan replied after a long while.

Laura watched her surrogate father, unfeeling. Her emotions had long since stopped. While she had been cutting herself in the police cell, and no one cared to notice, Laura allowed herself to slip into the pleasure and pain of the incision, washing over herself the only two emotions she'd ever known how to feel.

She let a single, solitary claw jut out from her fist as she hunched over in the backseat, drawing it in familiar patterns across her skin. Blood and tears ran together, breaking the smooth expanse into rivulets and streams of dull crimson, pooling on the tan carpet of Scott Summer's car. The top was down and as they sped onward, the wind carried any telltale scents from Logan's nose. They wouldn't know until the car was stopped and that was too far in the future for Laura to comprehend.

All that existed was now, and all that was now, was pain.

* * *

><p>The days blurred into months for Julian, waiting, walking, as he scrounged for food, stole what he needed to survive. His trek eastward began when he'd come back to the Facility to find rubble waiting for him. He'd held out hope that his masters had survived only briefly. It wasn't until he'd stopped in a local Las Vegas park and took a sip from a water fountain that he realized what freedom actually <em>meant.<em>

He'd drank because he wanted to, _when_ he wanted to. No Kimura to beat him for engaging in unsanctioned activity, no Zander Rice to stare down with his condescension.

So he stifled his powers ignoring the headache that brought on, and walked east, in pursuit of the one thing he was sure he truly wanted; to see her eyes once again.

It was funny. He could remember every person he'd ever killed, every face, the names when he knew them. He could recall them in exquisite, painful detail, but this girl…all he remembered was her eyes.

He could remember the pattern of her iris, but the face that surrounded it was a loss to him.

And he could not, for the life of him, explain the burning desire he felt each time he woke to see that face again.

He stood on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, soaking to the bone. Chill pushed through his thin, tattered coat, and withered the remnants of his now-feeble resolve.

Staring at the plaque that identified the grounds before him, he recalled how, not so long ago, this place had been deemed a world-class threat.

Now, to his weary eyes, it looked like only the haven its namesake had intended it to be.

A warm green glow encompassed him, blotting out the chill and the rain for the briefest of moments while he levitated quickly from the sidewalk. In only a moment, he was over the fence and lowering himself gently to the ground.

The emerald fire in his eyes, however, sparked and died as he neared it and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

By the time his feet touched the ground, he was already unconscious and he slumped into the petunias.

Laura averted her eyes from the scene before her, ducking behind a bust of some long-dead mutant benefactor, but she could not stop the pounding within her chest, nor could she erase the image that had burned itself into her retinas.

_He_ was here. Logan had just strolled through the door with death in his arms, swaddled in a blanket like a baby.

"Logan, this is hardly the time." Xavier's voice was little more than a terse whisper over the whine of his wheelchair's motor. "The boy needs medical attention. We will deal with his crimes later. Need I remind you, we are not a court of _law_, Logan, but rather a collection of individuals who seek to thwart the particularly _unjust_ ones."

Logan grunted in response, his eyes no doubt scanning for innocent bystanders to unload his frustration on. Laura desperately tried to still her pounding heart before they drew closer.

"The kid ain't _right,_ Charles. Unless you're gonna mind-wipe him when he wakes up. He's a _mass murderer_ an' you're walkin' him right into our house."

"There is a _reason_ he has come here of his own will, Logan. Everyone must have a chance at redemption, or we are all lost before we've begun."

Logan grunted in disapproval but said nothing more. Laura waited until Logan's footsteps had disappeared around several corners before she stepped out, nearly bowling over another student in the process.

"Whoa!" cried a surprised looking boy near her age, stumbling backward. His eyes raked over her, taking in her ragged appearance and he gulped audibly before rushing away with a hurried apology.

Laura sighed, realizing that about summed up her human interaction in this place. Aside from Logan and occasionally Cessily Kincaid, no one seemed to want to get within a hundred feet of her. It was refreshing at first, to be allowed the freedom to select her own interactions, rather than have them forced upon her, but it quickly became wearing.

A part of her longed for the gentle smile her mother would bestow upon her, but the occupants of this place only looked at her with suspicion. Most of them only knew what the news reports had claimed, saying she had killed her own mother out of cold blood. Even after Logan had grown tired of their treatment of her and issued a statement to the entire student body detailing exactly what had happened, they still remained quite cautious.

Laura was different though. She only knew death and had since come to terms with the fact that her mother had joined the long roster of those whose death she'd caused, directly or indirectly.

Continuing on, she found her way to the elevator and slipped inside, heading downstairs where she knew they would be holding him.

The elevator DINGED its arrival and she stepped off, walking calmly past the wall that Logan had been hidden behind just a few days ago. _When my mother was still alive, _she thought darkly. _Before he…_

Rage choked her thoughts and an image of the murderer's face came to mind.

_SNIKT!_

Laura shuddered at the unexpected lance of pain as her claws ejected, snapping her back to reality.

"Ms. Kinney, please." A voice was saying. It was gentle, and proper and somehow reassuringly familiar.

Her red eyes turned upward to see Hank McCoy standing in a nearby doorway. "You seem quite upset. Would you like to talk?"

For reasons unknown, a lump rose in her throat and Laura swallowed hard to dislodge it. "I…I must-" she began, but her voice was raspy from disuse and it came out somewhere between a cough and choking.

"Come," he said, as if that explained everything, smiling gently. "It just so happens that I've finished a pot of tea recently and need a partner to drink it properly."

He turned and strode into his lab, leaving no room for debate, and Laura shuffled after him obediently.

Shoving a pile of bizarre looking instruments aside to clear space on a small table, McCoy indicated a seat opposite his own as he set out dishes.

Surprise was evident on Laura's face as-seemingly from nowhere- the scientific mess that was Beast's lab produced a warm plate of crumpets, a steaming teapot, two cups, red checkered napkins and a single, large candle.

Hank shuffled back, pouring tea for each of them. "I hope you don't mind, dear, but I've heated the tea with a Bunsen burner today. A gravitational phase-shift inverter collapsed on itself and…well…we'll just say I misplaced my oven."

One of the girl's eyebrows cocked slightly in trepidation.

"Anyway," McCoy continued, striking a match on the bottom of his paw and lighting the candle. "A crumpet for you, Miss? They're imported."

Laura peered at the crumpets curiously, unsure of why someone would import something as common as bread. "Where were they imported from?"

"Boston," Hank replied, smiling slightly at his joke.

Laura stared.

"Right," Hank muttered, picking up his cup and taking a long sip. "How has your time been here?" he asked.

Soft candlelight danced off the china in Laura's slender fingers as she fiddled with the cup. "I do not wish to discuss this," She murmured.

"Laura, a great philosopher and poet once said, 'The young man who has not wept is a savage, and the old man who will not laugh is a fool.' It may be hard for you to find peace in a place such as this, but for your own sake, do not be afraid to live."

The girl nodded softly in acknowledgement, putting the cup down, its contents untouched. "I must go," she murmured, and hurried away.

Hank watched her go, smiling gently and snuffed out the candle with a massive paw. "I do think I'll enjoy more tea," he said, pouring another cup.

* * *

><p>Julian awoke, gasping for breath, and choking because none would come. He tried reaching for his face to remove the obstruction, but his arms would not budge. Resistance coiled at his wrists, forcing them to remain still, and he struggled, still choking, fighting for his life.<p>

His training kicked in and his eyes opened wide, then shut again. He cursed the bright light shining on his face, temporarily blinded, and panic began to set in once again. But he could feel. He felt the outline of something plastic covering his mouth and chin, leaving no room for air to slip through. He felt the straps that wrapped around his head, clasping together to hold the mask on.

And he could _think._ _What the hell am I doing?_ He wondered to himself. _I'm telekinetic._

The oxygen mask flew off of his face immediately, wrapped in green light and he gasped in precious air.

His attention flew to the straps holding his arms and legs and the fabric ripped away. Standing and pulling various monitors and sensors from his body, he blinked away the spot of light still blinding him.

When his vision finally cleared, he gulped loudly.

She was there. Right in front of him. Perched atop the bed he'd been laying on, holding onto the headrail with all six of her claws extended. She was _writhing_ with anger.

Her eyes bored into his skull, lips curled into a feral snarl. Why she hadn't already ripped him to pieces when he lay there unconscious he didn't know, but he wasn't taking any chances. A telekinetic shield appeared around him, as his eyes searched the room for an escape. He didn't see one. The room was small and rectangular, with three sides of it being glass and the last stark white. Expensive medical equipment was scattered throughout and several monitors that should have been keeping him alive had been surreptitiously disconnected.

She had tried to kill him in his sleep, which explained the oxygen mask going bad, though it did appear to be a surprisingly merciful way to kill him.

_Or surprisingly efficient,_ he reasoned, realizing that no one might ever find out she was the cause if it had worked. It was just dumb luck that he'd awoken before he died.

But those eyes he had longed to see were now in front of him and he began questioning the decision to return.

"Laura?" a sharp voice echoed behind him. Julian whirled around as the glass broke apart at its seam, revealing a doorway where it had been. The speaker was a bald, old man in a wheelchair, apparently defenseless against two trained assassins in a sealed room. "Stand down," he instructed calmly, leveling his gaze at Laura, who's face fell and she retracted her claws.

"You're bold," Julian said, regarding the man coolly.

"Ah, Julian Keller," Xavier replied, unfazed by his comment. "Good to see you have awoken, although I apologize for the incident. I should have placed higher security on your ward, but was not aware Laura knew of its existence, though her claws are quite extraordinary to cut through a titanium bulkhead."

Julian gulped. They had nearly turned him to Swiss cheese before. He was well aware of their capability.

"I suppose," he continued, "I should be used to that by now. Please, sit, both of you. We must speak thoroughly if you are to coexist."

Laura murmured a mute protest and Julian simply remained standing, a faint hum echoing from the edge of his shield.

"Why don't we try this again," Xavier continued smiling, and indicated two seats. "There is no danger here for either of you. This is a haven for mutants of all ages, shapes, sizes and abilities. You will not be harmed, coerced or pressed into some service. No past crime or crimes are applicable or punishable here. At Xavier's you are innocent, faultless and most importantly, safe. Please, sit, and we can resolve whatever differences you harbor."

Julian's face curled into a deep frown, but he sat, his shield evaporating into nothingness. Laura slinked down from the headboard, still moving with a huntress' grace although her claws were, mercifully, retracted. She stood several feet away from the chair, eyes leveled at Julian in baleful defiance.

"That will have to do," Xavier murmured. "Now, if you would kindly explain, Laura, why you tried to kill Mr. Keller just a moment ago?"

Laura's gaze never left him. "He…"she choked, more on emotion than anything. "He killed my mother. I cannot forgive him."

SNIKT! Her claws ejected again out of her shaking fists.

"Please, Laura," Xavier soothed. "Understand that Julian did not kill your mother of his own will. Rather, he was used, just as you were. Of everyone here, I expect you to understand more than anyone else. Those who are guilty are still at large, and they will hurt others the same way they have hurt both of you."

Laura's shaking stopped as she turned to regard the professor, but her claws remained, a trickle of blood from her fist staining the tip until a single drop fell onto the pristine floor.

"I _will_ kill him," Laura muttered.

Xavier sighed and from his breast pocket, pulled a folded envelope. "Logan found this at your mother's residence after the incident. He did not want to give it to you, but I believe you should have it. It may…bring you some closure."

Her claws slid inward slowly as her entire countenance changed. The murderous intent was gone, replaced by a hesitant reverence as she reached out and grasped the envelope tenderly, as if the slightest breeze would turn it to dust.

Her bright eyes flitted across the old, tattered envelope; one end burned, as if the writer had tried to destroy it, and then changed their mind.

She focused on the name, written in a gentle scrawl, barely legible because of smudges and dirt.

Laura

Her fingers shook as she lifted the letter from within, opening it, reading it slowly. Once, twice, three times she read it before a soft sound wrested itself from her constricted throat. A sob, quickly followed by another and suddenly her knees were weak. She sat in the chair, oblivious to everything but the letter, tears falling fast and free and silently except for the occasional _'hic_' of her drawn breath.

Charles looked on somberly, as uncomfortable silence permeated the ward.

"I think it best we leave her to mourn," Xavier suggested gently, wheeling out of the room.

Julian stood and followed, sparing one last, sympathetic glance at the sobbing girl before he rounded the corner and was gone.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thats all this time. Read and Review! Paperazzi 0uT!_

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	6. Sixth Entry

_An: Hey all, it feels good to get back to writing Helix! this one's been brewing for some months now, but here's the update!_

* * *

><p><strong>Savior<br>**

**Sixth Entry**

_The soft hum of an air conditioning vent droned beneath two children in the dank, dark space. Walls of earth pressed in on them from all sides, their slight frames only just allowing them to occupy it. "Do you know why they're keeping me here?" the first asked, a boy, dark haired and inquisitive and staring into the girls' bright green eyes. Her confidence in herself, her surety gave him the impression that she simply knew things. _

_She'd known how to slip her guards and find him in the doctor's examination room while the man was out, she'd known how to shut down the big, scary MRI machine he had stuck inside at the time, she'd known how to climb up into the ceiling at just the right spot to slip on top of the air vent, where they were unlikely to be discovered. _

_He lay facing her, his nose inches from her own, confident that she would know this too, but she hesitated. And there they were. Those eyes, bright and intelligent and knowledgeable. Able to take in every facet of every detail and store it with a blink, like a flawless camera shutter flickering open only long enough to preserve a carbon copy of reality. He saw something new in them now. Doubt._

"_You don't know?" he asked immediately, surprise covering his face. "I thought you knew everything. You're like a grow'd up or something."_

"_Grown-up," she corrected. "I suspect they will harm you. I do not wish for this to occur."_

"_Yeah right!" he boasted, a grin overtaking him. "I'm invincible! No one can hurt me!"_

_The girl recoiled from his bravado at first, but it brought a tiny smile to her lips. "Come, Julian. We must go. I do not want to be discovered."_

Alpha Weapon sat bolt upright in bed, staring blankly ahead. The dream had been so real, so vivid. Had that been a memory?

His breathing took only a moment to slow before he stood, looking around for the clothes Xavier had provided. He slipped into a pair of sweatpants and slipped into the hallway. He began to wander aimlessly, not sure what he was searching for, but aware that something was missing. A hunger had awakened inside him during his trek across the country and now he knew not how to sate it but only how to walk and search.

He passed through dormitories, a few lights beneath doors betraying the occupant's disregard for curfew, but otherwise quiet and unfulfilling. He angled for the main staircase and a light shining on the otherwise dark drapes caught his attention. Following it, he rounded the corner into what seemed to be the kitchen. Behind a counter, a pale, tattooed woman stood, eating from a large tub of ice cream with a spoon.

He stared curiously at the black patch surrounding one of her eyes until she looked up, having noticed him. "Scram, kid, this ice cream is…."

Her eyebrows shot up into her dark bangs as she stared at Julian. The spoon dropped unceremoniously from her hand and clanged to the ground. "Hello there, handsome," She purred, " When did you get here? I don't recognize you."

Julian blinked, not comprehending. He had seen this woman before. He would never forget that face, twisted into a scowl of disgust as the helicopter escaped into the Nevada sky all those years ago.

"My name's Neena," she continued, slipping the tub of ice cream back into the refrigerator and slinking around the counter. Julian stared forward as she approached, apprehensive around this woman. Nothing in his training dictated how he should react. There was no protocol for a casual encounter with another mutant and he racked his brain for an appropriate action. The closest thing he'd ever experienced to this moment was when Kimura had been sent into the field to evaluate him during one mission. She followed him into a bar, where he was assassinating a wealthy business owner, pretending to greet him after he'd finished his objective so he could make a clean getaway.

Now that he thought about it, she'd touched him invasively that time as well….

"Don't be shy," Neena purred, reaching out a hand to touch his stomach. He recoiled when her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin and leapt backward, tripping over a chair and landing flat on his back.

His heart pounding, he blinked away confusion to see another woman in the room now, standing over him. He stood quickly, careful not to touch either of them before he noticed her eyes. They were bright green and warm, just like Laura's.

"Are you alright?" the newcomer asked, peering up at him curiously. "I'm Rachel. Sorry about Neena, she's kind of a handful."

The woman extended her hand to shake and Julian took it apprehensively, pumped once and let go just as quickly.

"I'm not gonna burn ya," she joked, stepping into the light, and Julian noticed marks that ran the length of her jawline, ending in points on her cheeks. Curious, he followed the patterns with his eyes before realizing that she was watching with an amused expression. "That's the spirit," Rachel said, looking at him appraisingly while turning to the other woman, "Now _you _apologize."

Neena rolled her eyes. "Sorry goody two-shoes, I got here first and I'm callin' dibs on this one. "You're mine, right, bambi?"

Rachel's kind countenance devolved into a scowl and she glared at the other mutant. "You tramp. I'm not interested in him, you scared the poor boy half to death! Julian, just go to bed, sweetheart, I'll deal with this one."

Julian blinked, realizing that he'd never told Rachel his name. Indeed, he couldn't have talked over these two if he wanted to.

"Don't let her sweet talk you, Bambi," Neena replied, now inching closer. "I'll see more of you later."

Julian turned quickly and all but ran from the room. The look those women were giving him was absolutely predatory. Usually, he was the one in control of a situation, but he couldn't seem to find his tongue at all. The thought of women being interested in him was downright frightening at this juncture. All he really wanted to do was find Laura and make her understand that….

The young man froze in his tracks, unsure of where he was headed anyway. _That_ was the feeling that ate away at him, burned at him until he walked day and night toward his goal. But what did he want her to understand? That he remembered her? That she was all he thought about? How he kept his sanity? When they took everything from him, stripped him of possessions until he was naked and exposed and searched every cavity of his body for hidden treasures, beat and violated his body, made it kill and maim and hurt, that he kept his sanity because of the memory of her beautiful green eyes?

How could he? How could she possibly understand? Especially now that her mother was dead. She had tried to kill him in his sleep, and he doubted there would be any reciprocation of feelings. But something in him implored that she at least should _know_.

He slumped down against the wall and slid to the floor, wracking his brain until he was claimed by a blissfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>"Get up," called a gruff voice several hours later. "Hey. <em>Hey<em>! Kid, ya can't sleep in the hallways, dammit."

Wolverine stalked off, muttering under his breath about the unfairness of it all as he staggered to his feet.

Julian woke slowly, staring up at the man above him bleary-eyed and barely conscious. Faint sunlight pierced the haze that settled over his consciousness and brought the world into a dim, blue focus. A burly, hairy, short man stood over him, looking incredibly disgruntled. "Get yer ass up and get a shirt. Breakfast is in twenty."

With that he stalked off, leaving Julian to sit up dazedly. Then the world snapped back into focus and he leapt to his feet. Had he really just slept out in the open, in an unknown building with at least one occupant after his blood? Then again, it was the first real sleep he'd had in months, and far more comfortable than sleeping in a gutter on a lonely street, or a park bench or the like.

He had never felt so lost in his life.

* * *

><p>Laura stared at the boy laying on the floor not ten yards away. She watched silently from around a corner, neither invisible to the breakfast goers casting strange looks her way, nor trying to be. Her claws itched forward from between the small bones in her fist, gently breaking the skin between the knuckles on her right hand. Hurt and anger and emptiness seethed within her, threatening to swallow her very being, but, strangely, she could not summon the hate for him that caused her to break into the infirmary. The hate that had caused her to shut off his respirator while he slept had left her, replaced by the words her mother left.<p>

_You're not a monster, Laura. You're not a killer, or a tool, or someone's property. I've spent the  
>rest of my life trying to teach you that, and now you must show it. There is a boy, who is suffering the same fate you endured. I tried to save him myself, but could not. Logan will help you, and together, you can rescue him. This is the last mission you will ever be given. His name is Julian. Julian Keller.<em>

Without taking her eyes off the boy, she retracted her claws, ignoring the desire to trace familiar patterns of pain across her forearms that swelled within her.

"Laura?" a voice whispered from behind her.

The former assassin nearly leapt from her shoes, whirling around and assuming a defensive stance. She relaxed visibly when she saw her attacker was none other than the girl who'd helped her several days before.

"So who are we stalking?" the metal girl asked conspiratorially, ignoring Laura's reaction. She peered around the corner excitedly, then looked back to Laura. "Is he cute?"

A single eyebrow twitched upward in incredulity. "I am not performing reconnaissance at this time," she lied, straight-faced. Though she felt an odd burning sensation somewhere in her gut that she'd felt only once before when she had been caught eating her mother's favorite cookies. Sarah had described that feeling as 'shame.'

But what was she ashamed of now? Why had she lied instead of simply informing Cessily of her objective? Outwardly, Cessily was quite dangerous. Laura had seen her extend her arms to several times their length, change their physical shape, texture and hardness. She was an amorphous shape-shifter, however, her personality belied her physical gifts.

"Reconnaissance?" Cessily pondered this with a smile. "I like that word. It makes us sound like spies or something. Do you mind if I use that?"

To her credit, the girl did not outwardly show the confusion she felt, which seemed to be growing with each passing second. "I did not….I do not understand why you are asking permission to speak. I hold no copyrights or trademarks for language-"

"Nevermind," Cessily interrupted, "Whoever we're reconnoitering, they're gone now anyway. I'm just glad I got you to put your claws away. You were starting to scare people."

Laura ignored this last part. She cared not if people experienced fear in her presence. She had grown accustomed to that sort of reaction.

Besides, she was far too busy panicking about the first sentence.

"Gone?" she exclaimed, nearly swaying on the spot. "Where has he gone? I _must_ carry out my mission! I've only allotted myself sixteen more minutes!"

Cessily blinked.

"So you _were_ stalking someone?"

"That is irrelevant! I must go." Laura turned briskly and strode off down the hallway, looking desperately to see a tuft of jet black hair.

"Wait!" Cessily called out, but the girl simply marched away, disappearing into the throng of students with practiced ease.

* * *

><p>Xavier was a strange old man, Julian decided, sitting in the headmaster's office, the brown leather chair he was sitting in squeaking slightly every time he fidgeted.<p>

Which was a lot.

Xavier was staring at him over the broad, solid oak desk, hands pressed to his own temples, a look of extreme concentration clouding his features.

**Squeak.**

"If you'd be so kind as to hold still, Mr. Keller, I could focus just that much harder."

**Squeak.**

"I suppose you can't be troubled." Xavier sounded a bit annoyed at this.

_Besides, _Julian thought, _it is _his_ chair. His fault if it squeaks._

Finally, the man relaxed into his wheelchair, rolling to the open bay window that overlooked his property. Julian turned his head to follow the man's trek, watching curiously the pattern his wheels traced on the soft, luxurious carpet. this office must have cost a small fortune to piece together.

After some time, he spoke again.

"I do believe you are earnest in coming here. Your reasons are…regrettable, but rest assured you will not be judged. I will allow you to stay, and you will attend classes as the rest of the student body is required to. Twice a week, we will have therapy sessions and discuss your past. This is mandatory, though the hours we meet will be flexible. Is this agreeable?"

This elicited no more reaction than a cocked eyebrow from Julian, who could care less about the terms under which he was allowed to stay, so long as he remained near Laura. Instead, he paid mind to a slowly spinning geometric model on the desk, all angular lines and steel frame. The plaque beneath it read, "To Xavier, in thanks, from Tony Stark."

Xavier himself turned around. "its quite interesting isn't it? A perpetual motion statue. Even factoring in air resistance, it uses only gravity and physics to continue moving. I haven't touched it since I opened it. Of course, its not actually from Tony Stark. He's much too arrogant to thank someone, even when they erase the memory of an alien abduction from a loved one."

Julian looked on curiously and Xavier grabbed the rotating piece with a thumb and forefinger before lifting it and handing it to the surprised young man. "Here. I've never much liked it. Its yours."

Julian opened his mouth, but like before, nothing came out.

"Please, Mr. Keller, say what you like. You'll find that people here will be much less averse to your company if you simply say what is on your mind."

Julian filed this information away as sage wisdom. He remembered a time as a child when he was encouraged to do the same thing. A time when he had a mother and a father and a brother.

_Say what's on my mind…I can do that._

* * *

><p>"Fuck off, slut! I've had enough trouble from women like you!"<p>

Domino stared at the new arrival, suddenly seeing him an a whole new light. it was rare that someone had the stones to insult her, much less on a crowded patio during a lecture from Charles Xavier himself. The crowd assembled, mostly students, burst into laughter as the pale woman gritted her teeth, reaching for a pistol that wasn't there.

A red swirl of what Julian could only describe as anger descended upon him, literally from the sky as Rachel Grey swooped down and plucked him from the crowd, pulling him forcibly into the mansion, the crowd parting to let them pass.

Outside, Xavier continued his lecture, not bothering to quiet the suddenly boisterous students, instead projecting his words directly into their minds.

Rachel focused on something over Julian's shoulder for a second and then Xavier's voice was silent in his head as well.

"What was that?" Rachel asked quickly, her bright eyes boring holes into his own. "Was she doing something to you?"

Julian shook his head and she looked puzzled. "Wha-then why did you…?"

"The professor told me to speak my mind. Say what I think before I tell myself not to say it. Also that I am required to attend therapy sessions with-"

Rachel waved her hand to cut him off.

"I've talked to the professor since you two had your chat earlier. He asked me to keep an eye on you, since our powers are similar, but…'fuck off, slut?' When did you learn…"

"My handler, Kimura," Julian replied, speaking almost automatically now. He was loathe to tell anyone of what occurred, but he had his orders. He kept his mouth moving and his lips twisting to make the sounds even as his gut twisted a little more with each syllable. "She would regularly abuse me, physically, mentally and sexually to ensure my obedience. Several of the orderlies and scientists around the Facility knew of her activity and one spoke those words to her."

But Rachel didn't seem to be listening anymore, removing her hand from his forearm self-consciously. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung slightly open. Julian decided he didn't like that expression on her face, so he continued, hoping further explanation would help.

"Neena Thurmond reminded me of that event with her behavior and those words came to mind. So I spoke them, despite the expected consequences."

"Consequences?" Rachel echoed, unable to meet Julian's eyes.

"She killed him. On the spot. I feared you would be killing me for my outburst when you led me away."

Rachel closed her eyes quickly. "Shutup. Just shutup. Don't say _everything _that pops into your head, okay? Living with…well…_us_, but anyone really, means that you have to learn when its not appropriate to speak and when it is. You really need to be around people your age to do that. I'll introduce you to a few of the students when the lecture is out, okay?"

Not knowing what else to do, Julian nodded, now confused. He'd been given conflicting orders now, one that directly countermanded the other, and without a clear chain of command or chain of discipline, he had no idea which to follow.

The moment of panic ensued until he realized that there _was_ no chain of command and he was free to choose which directive best suited him. He was free.

A small smile cracked his lips. The first since he'd arrived at Xavier's school.

"What?" Rachel asked, concern in her voice.

"I like speaking my mind."

* * *

><p>Not a dozen feet away, Laura sat on the floor, legs folded beneath her. She listened from her hiding spot behind a brass sculpture and watched as the redheaded woman lifted her hand and paused just short of touching his cheek with a tenderness that she had seen only Sarah show. A burning sensation rose in her gut that she had no experience with. It wasn't as humbling or embarrassing as shame and not as hot and provocative as anger, but lived somewhere in between the two.<p>

It made her want to rip the flesh from the redhead's bones and burn what remained. She let her claws slowly puncture the skin between her knuckles before she knew they were moving and suddenly the redhead recoiled, looking around alarmed.

Laura knew not whether she could sense the danger she posed, even though she knew her natural psionic shields should render her nearly invisible to the building's telepaths. But something else set the woman off and Laura watched as she turned to leave, beckoning Julian follow her.

He did, like an obedient puppy follows its master and the feeling returned even stronger within her.

"Hello, Laura," came a calm, even voice from the other side of the sculpture. "I think its time you, Logan and I had a chat."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading! be sure to review!<em>

_Paperazzi 0uT!_

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	7. seventh entry

_A/N: Back in the game with an update! WOO! hoping to get mucho writing done in the coming weeks. In the meantime, enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Savior<strong>

**Seventh Entry**

A soft beat rapped against ageless oak, knuckles against the wood, entreating entry.

The answer is a growl, displeasure and menace and grudging permission, wrapping in a warning; Enter, but not too quickly and not too far. Logan wasn't the type for entertaining guests, especially the unannounced variety and it shows on his leathery features as he swings around in the plush chair made seemingly from the same material.

He had work to do, and between tracking Sabretooth, finding an old contact from his assassin days and grading his student's self-defense footage whoever brought their mangy little mutant head into his office would have to face his wrath.

"Whadda you want, b-" Brown eyes opened wide in horror behind a scarred, sharp face and Logan's claws immediately shot from his fists. Adamantium blades sharper than razors and denser than diamonds exploded outward into his antique desk.

"Laura!" he exclaimed, his eyes transfixed on the girl, floating a full foot off the ground. Her arms were outstretched above her head, and legs splayed wide, her six extended claws flexed oddly back toward the door.

"Logan," came a voice from behind her, clipped and precise and haughty and superior. "So very good to see you old friend."

And before he could take a step, Logan was in midair as well, mimicking Laura's pose. Her green eyes met his, fear running rampant behind her bright green irises.

"I'm gonna kill you Lensherr! Let the girl go! She's not a part of this!"

A slow chuckle.

"Logan, you disappoint me. I care not for the girl. Her life is meaningless while you exist. A thousand of her could be produced with Kinney's formula. My only care is this precious metal. You've lied to me Logan. Again."

Wolverine felt his claws twisting outward as Magneto stepped into the room, fully cloaked and helmed and armored. The door slid shut behind him as if from its own volition and he strode closer. Logan tried to scream as his adamantium claws warped and bent, crushing the bones beneath into powder, yet couldn't. His mouth was sealed shut by the same invisible force that tortured him.

"Daddy…" laura whispered, watching in horror as Wolverine's claws continued to bend.

"Quiet child. He is no more your father than God almighty. You are an experiment, a tool. A thing to be used."

Laura's mouth snapped shut and she hung her head, which only made Logan rage all the more. His muscles and tendons writhed against the force holding his metal skeleton steady to no avail.

"Tell me, Logan, if the last of the world's true Adamantium was used on your skeleton, how is it that now two people have returned with it lacing their claws? First Deathstryke, now this abomination? It is as if someone _else_ knows how to produce it, other than Stryker, whom you've conveniently eliminated. Who is making it? Where is it coming from? For all my resources Logan, I just can't seem to find out."

Logan peeled his lips back and spit through his teeth, showering Magneto with the spray. The man looked unperturbed. "A shame really, since there could be so much profit in it. Just think, the Master of Magnetism with a stockpile of invincible metal to use at his whim."

With a flick of his wrist, Magneto yanked the claws from Laura's feet, causing a river of blood to run from her boots onto the grey carpet. The river dried as quickly as it came, but that didn't stifle her cry of pain. Still, she hung her head, unmoving.

"Bastard!" The elder mutant grunted through his locked jaw, "Leave her out of this!"

"Oh, no, Logan, I shan't. Your adamantium is antiquated. The process used to refine it imperfect, and your healing factor twisted its composition. It is useless to me, I cannot strip it from your bones or I would have long ago. But _hers…_ it is so pure, so perfect that…."

The two claws hung in the air, blood still dripping slowly from their trailing edges. The rotated once before logan's eyes before the adamantium began to peel away like the skin of a fruit, stripping off in flowing layers until white bone remained.

With a thud, the claws hit the floor, but Logan's eyes were transfixed on the metal still floating, merging on itself into a ball the size of a marble.

"So much from just two claws!" Magneto exclaimed. His voice was lighter now, almost gleeful. "What I could never do with you this girl has made possible, Logan. I must thank you. True Adamantium is quite rare, in fact. I do believe only she possesses it in this quantity. And you've brought her right to me."

The adamantium expanded from the tiny ball into a sword, razor thin except for the hilt and it soared gently toward Laura's neck, cutting her hair with only its own weight against the blade.

"Fury," Logan grunted, defeated. "You can get more from Fury. He has the list."

"Oh, I don't need more, Logan," Magneto replied easily. With a flick of his wrist, the remaining four claws ripped themselves from Laura's hands and she crumpled to the floor as the precious metal peeled away from them.

"Wonderful," He whispered, molding the metal into a single, large sheet. It turned nearly liquid and streamed toward his chest, settling between the molecules of his existing armor, and resting there.

"Marvelous. A layer only four hundred atoms thick and now I'm just as invincible as you've been all these years. I'll be sure to keep this gift close to my heart, Logan, where even your wonderful claws now cannot reach."

He turned and strode from the room, dropping Logan even as his claws bent back to their normal shape.

"Lensherr!" Logan roared as he charged forward, intent on catching the mutant. Several students froze in horror in the hallways, half at the sight of Magneto himself roaming the halls and the other half at the sound of Wolverine's enraged voice. Everyone had one thing in common though; they all ran.

Julian pushed through the throng of students, heading toward the disturbance as quickly as he could, but the surging tide of bodies made that impossible. He charged forward, though, ignoring the heady stench of bodies too close to his own and the smell of fear hanging onto each and every one.

A heavy hand made of something other than flesh caught him over the head and Julian watched the world blur as he staggered back, for a moment caught in the throng. A foot found his ankle and he tripped. Time seemed to slow as he fell his head dipping below the level of the crowd, but his training kicked it and he caught himself in a bright green embrace, launching up to the ceiling. And flattening his back to it as students fled below. His eyes snapped upward at movement and bright green eyes latched onto his own, just inches away.

"Julian!" Rachel Grey shouted above the maelstrom that was the main corridor. "Help me get the students outside!"

He started, surprised to be addressed by his given name. It was still strange to him, but he obeyed the order unquestioningly, guiding the students forward with a series of telekinetic baffles at key hallways and junctures until they were safely outside. He charged back toward the source of the commotion, but before he'd gotten a few feet, a massive metal sphere crashed through the wall of the mansion, flying into the sky at unprecedented speed.

A person-sized speck followed the sphere out of the wall, but Logan, Julian quickly realized, could not fly, and was much too late to catch the sphere, as was clearly his intention. His arms flailed, invincible claws slashing the air helplessly before the inevitable plummet began.

Julian needed only focus before a green cushion appeared below the man and he landed gently on the lawn.

"Nice catch," He finally growled as Julian made his way over.

"What…who was that?"

"Magneto," Logan replied, then rolled his eyes as he noticed the uncomprehending stare on Julian's face. "Eric Lensherr. He's a mutant terrorist. We've been trying to deal with him for years, but he just keeps finding his way back."

"Should I terminate him?" Julian replied logically, already formulating an offensive strategy.

"Kid he'd kill you before you could smell his dirty laundry. Well…I guess you don't smell so good as I do, so-"

"Ignore Logan's analogies," Rachel instructed, landing beside the pair. "You'll never get them. And Xavier says he wants to see you, Logan."

"I've got something to take care of first," he replied, turning toward the building.

"Up you go, then," she smirked slightly, boosting him up to the hole in the wall with a surge of her power before turning back to Julian. "And you. Back to crowd-control duties. We need a head count of all these students who are outside and-"

"One hundred and eighty-two," he answered quickly. His mind settling on a different pair of green eyes. One he had not noticed when counting out all the other students. "I need to find someone-"

"Not so fast," Rachel cut him off, hooking her arm around his own. "I cant deal with two hundred super powered urchins on my own. You really gonna leave me all by my lonesome?"

She fixed him with a plaintive stare that he found distracting, if only for a moment. "I apologize. I will not disobey your directives."

Rachel's face fell at this and she reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but hesitated, clearly conflicted, and stopped short. "No, Julian, not like _that_. I was _requesting_ your help, not ordering you."

The thrill of freedom swam through his veins now, as Julian realized he had a _choice_. "Then I'm refusing," he replied, lifting into the air and racing back toward the source of the disturbance.

Laura sat in a small puddle of blood that had stained the red carpeted floor. Not that anyone would notice. She wondered briefly how often people bled on Logan's carpet, wondered if the crimson camouflage was by design or happenstance.

_It does not matter,_ she thought automatically. _Mother couldn't protect me. Not from the Facility, not from losing my claws…_

"Laura!" Logan exclaimed, bursting through the door, and dropping to the ground next to her. She stared at his knee, unable to meet his face. His knee was interesting. The dark blue fabric of his jeans were absorbing the blood that seconds ago had been pouring unabated through her hands.

"Laura, say something, kid. You gonna be alright?"

His breath was hot and moist, and on it she smelled anger and violence and bloodlust. She felt the years of torture rushing back to the forefront of her mind where a dark-skinned beast hovered above her, impervious to her thrashes and rages and ever awaiting an opening to strike back; always waiting Kimura was.

Logan sat, waiting for her response. It was too convenient, too-

"Look, I ain't gonna sit here while you fizzle out. Head down to the medical ward and have Hank take a look at ya, kid."

Logan stood, and soon, Laura was alone again. Two pairs of footsteps sounded outside the door, one receding, measured, light and predatory. The other footfalls were urgent, approaching quickly and with abandon. She looked up quickly as the door was thrown open and wide, focused eyes locked onto hers. They flickered left, registered the claws on the ground, stripped bare and left on the floor, gleaming white against the red backdrop.

His eyes set, hard and angry, no _furious_, but none of the rage Logan carried was present. Julian's temper was focused, driven, determined, but controlled. "We'll get them back," he said automatically, his mouth moving apparently without his permission. He wore a look of mild shock on his face that he quickly covered up, as if he'd surprised himself saying that. But behind the surprise, he wore that same determination, the same conviction that he possessed the day she first laid eyes on him.

Her mouth opened to reply, but no sound came out. She was broken, beaten, speechless and alone, and who to come than the man who'd been responsible for her mother's death? Who should arrive but the man her mother had told her to save, had believed to her dying breath that his life was worth far more than her own.

Laura watched as his eyes glowed with an ethereal light from within, a light she knew was caused by complex chemo-kinetic reactions going on in his brain that engaged his telekinesis, but seemed magical all the same. She felt herself lift from the floor gently and settle on her feet, the pain from having her foot-claws yanked out violently long gone, replaced by a feeling somewhat analogous to a baby's teething between her toes as new claws grew slowly in.

She wandered closer, transfixed by his gaze, the pride behind the tall, strong exterior that hid, an armor for the innocence that lay deep down below. Now she understood what her mother had asked of her, how important the mission she'd been given was. It wouldn't be completed in twenty-two minutes. She wasn't foolish enough to set that objective.

Invisible magnetism drew her closer until her boots brushed the tips of his, her bloodied hands and feet and clothes forgotten, she tucked her head under his chin, settling as if she was meant to be there and his arms slowly, hesitating only slightly, slipped around her. The sleeves of his coarse, brown, leather jacket kissed gently her exposed shoulders before settlilng on her skin, pressing her further into the warmth and strength radiating from his core. Hands found purchase, one on her shoulder, one on her waist as she slipped her arms around him as well and he settled his chin on her soft dark hair and she exhaled a tension she had carried since youth, her first friend, her only friend, back where he belonged.

She relaxed further into the embrace, years of loneliness and sorrow simply evaporating within her as if her life had known nothing but his touch and was wont for only that.

But, as she quickly learned, all good things must, sometime, end.

"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EE! OMIGODOMIGODOMIGOD!"

Cessily screeched in glee as she rounded the corner, startling the pair from their reverie.

Julian panicked and shot out of the window in a blast of green energy and Laura gaped after him, her mouth hanging open.

One question reverberated throughout her head, baffling her in its complexity and stumping her with its simplicity. _Why did he take off like that?!_

* * *

><p><em>R&amp;R! Paperazzi 0uT!<br>_

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